


Thicker Than Blood

by reverseblackholeofwords, RubberSoles19



Series: Devil May Care [8]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's, MatPat - Fandom, NateWantsToBattle - Fandom, Supernatural, Youtubers
Genre: Abusive Parents, Angst, Blood Loss, Brotherly Love, FNAF!AU, Finally, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Las Vegas, Platonic Life Partners, Platonic Relationships, Shiv is face claimed as Riley Davis from MacGyver, Vampires, andy is a doll and an angel and none of them deserve him, john smith's A+ parenting, nothing too graphic but we Finally get some Hurt, seriously it's a monster, she's Aesthetic, supernatural!AU, the universe gets Dark, this is one massive BEAST of a fic, we meet some New friends!, you're gonna Hate them!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 58,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24482857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reverseblackholeofwords/pseuds/reverseblackholeofwords, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubberSoles19/pseuds/RubberSoles19
Summary: Every hunter knows what wicked, evil infection runs through the veins of Las Vegas, the most corrupt city in the country. It all started with a nest, but it will end with more tech than the previous generation of hunters know what to do with, and more bloodshed than more of them have ever seen. When everyone in the party is out-matched, outsmarted, and maybe even betrayed, it's up to a ragtag team of friends and young hunters to cleanse Las Vegas for good - if that's even possible.In which: Andy and his team need help - and need it NOW, and Nathan Smith is just the hero his partner needs.
Relationships: Matthew Patrick & Andrew Stein, Matthew Patrick & Nathan Sharp, Matthew Patrick/Stephanie Patrick, Nathan Sharp & Andrew Stein, Stephanie Patrick & Nathan Sharp
Series: Devil May Care [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646251
Comments: 149
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The time has finally come:  
> UNLEASH THE BEAST!
> 
> This episode is Beyond Massive. It's insanely, indecently big. So that it doesn't last all summer long, we are changing up our uploading schedule to be much more frequent. A LOT more frequent. Just consider it our little treat to everyone out there for surviving through school and life in general until summer.
> 
> Other than that, we're really excited for this episode. We have some darker tones in here (as if children murdering monsters aren't dark already), and start to explore some really interesting dynamics. Basically, prepare for angst!  
> And be sure to check out the videos linked ahead of the chapter so you can really get a feel for how young these babies actually are as we do... all of this to them.

[Nate [1](https://youtu.be/RAP6KEN-A-Q), [2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIny7du6n4I&t=21s)] [[Matt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CaZfsxHVHlE)]

Las Vegas, Nevada  
May, 2011

Few places in the world were gaudier, flashier, and louder than Las Vegas. Not exactly Andy’s idea of a good time by any stretch of the imagination - though he never visited Vegas for what he would call “a good time.” As he slipped through the crowds of people vomiting out of one casino and into another, Andy kept his gaze swiveling. Dancing girls traveling in groups, enough flashing lights to be seen from space, blaring music accosting him from every side, it was all one big distraction. It made him paranoid, or at least, a little more paranoid than usual.

 _“So how about it, Andy,”_ the voice came through his bluetooth headphones, _“you and I gonna hit the tables later or what?”_

Andy smirked to himself, a little of the paranoia slipping away into his typical good humor. “Sure Miles, as soon as you actually learn how to play.” Finally he spotted the kid at the corner of the strip Andy was currently headed down. Miles was a wiry, wily hunter with spiked hair and a slick smile. He could con a guy’s shoes right out from under him, but he didn’t know the first thing about poker - or any card game for that matter.

“I’m - I’m offended, Stein, that you think I wouldn’t understand the very basics of a fundamental pastime in this great country.” Miles was also keeping his eyes on the faces around him, even as he joked. He stood at the corner of _Satisfaction_ , one of the more exclusive bars in the area, overflowing with Gothic decor, barred windows, and scarlet, velvet curtains as if to drive the point home that, yes, this was Vegas. And everything had to be over the top.

“Oh yeah?” Andy asked with a smirk when he had to stop short, nearly getting trampled by a group of what looked like Frat guys stumbling out of a bar together. “Last time I tried to teach you poker you kept hitting the deck and yelling ‘Full House.’”

There was laughter across the shared signal as Miles scoffed, “What - is that not the right game?”

Another voice spoke up then, this one deep, with a rough edge to it, “Boys…” Across the strip, posted outside another bar that was decorated like an 80’s discotheque, Andy spotted Gordon Walker looking about as sour as ever. “If you don’t clear this line, I’ll start swinging, and you know I don’t miss.”

“Oh, come on, Walker!” Miles complained, sounding every bit the annoying nineteen year-old he was. “If anyone on this team is going to fight me, I’d rather it be Shiv.”

“Oh, Miles,” a female voice answered across the line. Andy stood up on his toes to catch sight of her walking past a large marble fountain not far from him. While Andy might’ve been antsy about this hunt, he didn’t think Shiv had one anxious bone in her body. She was the definition of cool, calm, and collected. “I’d be game for it.”

Everyone shared a collective blink before Andy chuckled and asked, “Wait - really?”

“Why not?” Shiv tossed her dreadlocks over one shoulder and almost imperceptibly checked the weapon hidden underneath her black leather jacket. “It would be good practice beheading any of you morons.” The whole group laughed then, even Gordon. “Besides, Miles, you still owe me that date to _Caesars_.”

Miles giggled somewhat nervously and rubbed one thumb along the peach fuzz growing on his jaw. “What is it with you and _Caesars_? You got a thing for the Greeks?”

Shiv sighed, rolling her eyes with an angled smile as she slipped past Andy. “Actually, Caesar was Roman, and I told you already…”

The whole group quoted together then, verbatim, “Your family has been going there since it was founded.” And Andy added, still laughing, “We get it, Shiv.”

Miles blew her a kiss as she moved past him and kept walking to another corner of the building. Shiv largely ignored him. “Well, you party poopers have fun on your own. I’m heading north. We don’t need two here on top of each other.”

“I thought I told you all to stay put,” Gordon muttered through their headphones.

“Relax, Gordo,” Miles teased while leaning back against the building, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

If Andy believed in jinxes…

Behind him, Miles heard a loud, metal bang and turned towards the alley between _Satisfaction_ and the next building over. He couldn’t see anything moving right away, but he could’ve sworn that there were no back entrances to the night club. “Am I going crazy, or did this place not have a backdoor before?”

“You’re the one who pulled the blueprints, Miles,” Gordon grumbled.

“Yeah, no word from the jury on the ‘crazy’ part, though,” Andy added, trying to keep the mood as light as anybody could on a hunt like this one.

Still staring down the alley, Miles shrugged, “Guess that’s fair…” He decided to check - just a few paces into the alley couldn’t hurt.

But the lack of a snappy comeback made Andy nervous. He glanced back in Miles’s direction and felt his heart drop when he didn’t see the kid standing in position anymore. “Miles? Why do you ask? … Miles?”

Further down the alleyway, Miles could just make out a couple in the dark, a man and a woman, both dressed in Gothic-era clothing. They staggered a bit as they walked, like they were drunk, but Miles couldn’t help but feel that something seemed off.

“You’re much cuter than your profile!” the woman cooed into the man’s ear, pressed flush against him as they stopped near the back of the alley.

“Yeah, I bite better, too,” the man replied and flashed a toothy smile.

The woman surged up on her toes to kiss him. His arms encircled her, and Miles drew back a little in disgust before he noticed something else. The man’s hand wandered down the woman’s hip before he reached into his own pocket and drew out a vial full of dark red liquid.

He drew back to show it to her, moving it back and forth in front of her eyes like it was a piece of candy. “One little taste of this, baby, and you won’t bite the same way either.”

“Crap,” Miles hissed, pressing his back to the wall of the alley out of sight of the couple.

“Miles,” Gordon asked calmly, “what’s going on?”

Andy, much less calm and already moving in Miles’s direction, asked a little louder, “Miles, what are you doing? Where did you go?” There were so many people, too many dang people between himself and the kid, and Andy was about two seconds from shoving people out of his way.

As the young woman giggled, the man uncorked the vial, and Miles knew that he couldn’t wait any longer. Gordon was going to kill him for not waiting on back-up, but desperate times and all that. The man was holding the vial towards the woman's open mouth, tipping it slowly. Soon gravity would do the work for him-

“Not so fast!” Miles appeared from his hiding place, swiping the vial from the man and crushing it against the concrete with the heel of his boot as the couple stared at him in a rage.

“What the hell?” the man cried, raising two thick eyebrows in surprise.

Miles grabbed the front of the guy’s doublet and slammed him into the alley wall. “You’ve spread the last of your poison, blood sucker!” Then turning to the woman, he jerked his head towards the entrance of the alleyway. “Run! Get out of here!”

But she didn’t run. She didn’t even look alarmed. If anything, she seemed amused by Miles' rescue attempt, a growing smile spreading on her blood red lips. Miles frowned and looked around him as more people stepped out of the shadows. He was surrounded.

Drawing the machete from his belt, he held it out and swung it around to keep them away. “Keep back! I’m armed!”

“Not for much longer,” the man hissed from behind him, “ _hunter_.”

Before Miles could react, the group of them swarmed him.

Hearing the fight through his headphones, Andy bolted suddenly, knocked people left and right to get to the kid in time, and shouted his name, all but begging for a response, “Miles! Miles!”

“Andy, stand down! We need to follow the fang back to the nest!” Gordon shouted, but Andy tore the headphones from his ears and let them hang from the collar of his shirt as he kept running. Let Gordon chew him out for disobeying orders later, right now they had a nineteen year-old kid trapped in an alleyway with at least one fang, maybe more, and Andy wasn't about to stand idly by.

Shiv and Gordon ran after him.

Andy reached the mouth of the alley first, but the fangs were gone. Everything was quiet like the air just before a storm. “Miles?”

The kid was huddled against the wall, curled up on himself with his hands tangled in his gelled hair and his back to Andy. Rocking back and forth where he sat, Miles was saying something, muttering under his breath, his whole body shaking and twitching uncontrollably. Behind him, Andy could hear Shiv and Gordon approaching.

“Andy,” Gordon warned.

But he wasn’t listening. “Miles!” Andy jogged down the alley to Miles’ side where he knelt down and reached out a hand to clutch the kid’s shoulder.

Only, in a flash, Miles turned and attacked him, fangs protruding from his mouth. His chin and chest was soaked in blood. The back of Andy’s skull smacked against the concrete, his eyes rolling back on impact, and he was pinned beneath Miles who hissed at him viciously.

“Andy!”

Miles glared up at Shiv who stood a few paces away, her machete clutched tight in her hand. His whole body taut and coiled like a snake ready to strike, Miles bared his teeth at her, growling, “You-!”

In that moment, fast as a flash of lighting, a blade sliced through the air and severed Miles’ head from his shoulders. The head rolled away, his body crumbling against Andy who choked and screamed, acrid blood spewing over his face. Gordon kicked the body off, his nose wrinkled in disgust at it as he clutched the handle of his machete, painted red in the flashing neon. Shiv jumped forward to help Andy sit up. He was covered in Miles’ blood, spitting it from his mouth, wiping it out of his eyes. It was everywhere. Oh God, Miles...

Andy scrambled back against the wall of the alley, staring at the severed head in shock.

As calmly as if he’d just carved a turkey rather than one of the members of his hunting party, Gordon wiped the blood off of his machete onto his sleeve, and Shiv sprang at him, seizing the collar of his flannel shirt. “What did you do?! Miles was-”

“He was turned,” Gordon spat in her face, as if that justified it. As if the kid wasn’t one of their own. “There was no saving him.”

"Well, there certainly isn't now!" Shiv turned away, sickened by his emotionless eyes, and looking around, she saw the busted vial on the ground, the traces of blood around it. But there was no sign of the vampires, where they’d gone, nothing. She picked up the biggest piece of the vial that remained intact and tossed it unceremoniously at Gordon’s chest. “At least we found your oh so precious nest.”

Gordon caught the vial and gave her a warning glare. Then his gaze moved to where Andy was pressed against the alley wall, still frozen in terror and staring at Miles’ head - the kid's last look of fear frozen on his features. Gordon kicked the head out of Andy’s line of sight, and Andy blinked, looking up at Gordon through a haze.

“You alright?”

Alright, define alright, Andy thought to himself and glanced past Gordon to Shiv. Her face was twisted in a mixture of emotions, none of them quaint. And then Andy looked down at Miles’ body, resolve freezing solid in his veins. He could sit there, let himself fall all to pieces, and cry over the kid. Or... His face hardened as he forced himself to his feet.

“I want the nest.”

* * *

Two Weeks Later…

Music poured from the backyard of a large, adobe vacation home in a sprawling suburb outside of Vegas. The neighborhood was full of more houses like it, temporary places, not houses people actually lived in year-round. Everything was desert-themed, large saguaro cacti growing in the yards, raised barriers of orange and brown rock separating the houses like canyon walls.

Another old truck pulled up in front of the house at the end of the street, one more among nearly half a dozen that had congregated there within the last few hours. A man and a woman, both with the same inquisitive dark eyes and smooth facial features, got out of the truck, approached the door, and knocked cautiously. They waited a moment, scanning the empty street, before Gordon answered the door.

“You two forget to take the left at Albuquerque or something?” he asked as he invited them inside and showed them through to the kitchen where Shiv was busy getting more beers from the fridge. Gordon jerked his head towards the newcomers. “Shiv, this is Max and Erma, twins from Nebraska.”

Shiv nodded her head towards them in greeting. “Well, welcome to Sin City,” she said as she handed each of them a beer.

“Thanks,” Erma said, still looking around the house and wondering how Gordon Walker of all people got his hands on a place like this. Probably not entirely legally, if she had to be honest. “Admittedly, we’ve never been here, but when Gordon put out the word that y’all are taking the nest, we had to come help.”

Gordon crossed his arms over his chest and leaned one shoulder against the wall. “Thankfully you’re not the only ones.”

“Sure.” Shiv shot a glare in Gordon’s direction when he wasn’t looking. Already a small army had congregated in the house, or more accurately the backyard where the beer was flowing freely along with old, hard rock music and the same five, glorious hunting stories that just never seemed to get old with these people. “Who knew Gordon had so many connections around the country. Here I thought vampire hunters were a dying breed.” She sounded almost disappointed.

Gordon only shrugged, and Shiv led the newcomers through the house to the backyard and toward the source of the music. Sunlight glittered off the in-ground swimming pool, and the whole yard was alive with hunters passing around drinks, swapping stories, generally having a good time like they weren’t about to waltz into the belly of the beast.

Shiv glanced over her shoulder at the twins. They seemed out-of-place among the crowd, quiet in comparison to the rest of the hunters, but they waved casually to a few that they recognized. Vampire hunters, she had learned, tended to run in the same crowd. That crowd just also tended to thin out pretty regularly every few years or so.

“So how long have you two known Gordon?”

They swapped a look that Shiv couldn’t read, and Max answered, “Oh, since we were kids, I guess.”

Seemed to be a pattern, Shiv noted with a sour expression as Erma went on, “Only because he knew our folks. We didn’t start training with him until a couple years back.”

“What about you?” Max asked, almost like they were trying to gauge Shiv’s rank. Hunters had a natural tendency towards that sort of thing - pissing contests and such.

“Oh me?” Shiv played it off, deflecting. “I’m not here for Gordon. Family’s from this city, born and bred. I’m just looking out for it, you know? It’s my home.” They seemed almost surprised, but then again, almost everyone here had a connection to Gordon, some history with him, some debt to pay. “You want to talk history, talk to Andy over there.”

Shiv pointed him out among the crowd. Unlike usual, Andy was sitting alone, staring into the fire pit. He hadn’t been the same since Miles, hadn’t quite gotten all that blood out from under his fingernails, and Shiv frowned as she told the twins, “I swear he’s known Gordon since he first started hunting - oh - six, seven years ago. But the way he tells it, Gordon got him out of a tight spot when Andy first got onto the scene, and he’s been a loyal pup ever since.”

The twins laughed at that, though Shiv hadn't meant it as a joke, and she felt her stomach twist in disgust. Andy spotted her through the crowd and came over. Trying to keep her tone cordial, she started to introduce them, “Oh, Andy, this is-”

“Where’s Gordon?” he asked, cutting her off in a way he normally never would. His eyes were shadowed, rimmed in red and gray from lack of sleep, and he didn’t even spare a glance towards the twins when normally he'd be the foremost welcoming party, all sugary smiles and politeness.

Shiv jutted her thumb back towards the house. “Yeah, he was inside, I think, headed for the garage with the other old farts.”

“Thanks,” he muttered and headed in that direction without another word, the three of them blinking after him.

Max narrowed his eyes. “That was…”

“He’s not usually like this,” Shiv quickly explained, sipping her beer as she watched Andy disappear inside the garage. “We lost a teammate about two weeks back to the nest. Andy took it kinda hard; he always does.”

Erma nodded, a certain kind of darkness passing through her eyes. “We’ve all lost partners or teammates. It’s hard on everyone.”

“Not like Andy it isn’t.” Shiv set her jaw. Most vampire hunters were about as cold and dead inside as the creatures they killed. It took a special kind of person to lob the head off something that still looked human, and Andy - he was never that kind of hunter. For that reason, he never made a lick of sense to Shiv, not that she made a habit of asking personal questions. Finally, she glanced at the twins again and started backing away. “Will you excuse me? Feel free to make yourselves at home.”

They smiled and nodded politely as Shiv turned back towards the house.

Inside the garage, it smelled so strongly of beer, cigarette smoke, and corn chips that Shiv nearly choked. The bare concrete floors were stained with oil, the walls lined with various tools and equipment and weapons. At the center of the room, several older hunters gathered around a table where a map of the city was laid out, over a dozen red pins stuck here and there in places that the team had already checked for the nest. More photos and pages of research were passed around through the different hands, weeks of hard-earned work.

Gordon stood at the table, his hands leaned against it as he spoke. “I hate to say this, but me and my team have poured over this location as much as we possibly can without being caught. We have no other choice but to split-up and attack in two waves.”

By the looks on their aged faces, it wasn’t what anyone wanted to hear. Splitting up almost always led to casualties, higher casualties when dealing with fangs, but no one was up for arguing either. This was Gordon’s operation, and he didn’t take suggestions from the peanut gallery.

One of the hunters, a grizzled old veteran with enough scars to prove his years of killing, piped up, “We’re just impressed you found the nest at all, Gordon. Hell, how many of our grandaddies died just trying to track it down?”

Shiv glanced at Gordon’s face, waiting to see if he would tell the truth, and to her surprise, he sighed and held up his hands. “Actually, I didn’t find it.” Gordon’s spine straightened as more surprised mumbling made its way through the small room, and he gestured to Andy who slipped up to stand beside him at the table. “Gentlemen, Andy Stein, who has been busting his ass to figure out where the nest is, practically all on his own. I’ve never seen someone work harder in my life.”

Andy bowed a little under the scrutiny. He didn't like to take all the credit for the work they'd done the past few weeks. He didn't think he deserved it. And to say the other hunters seemed skeptical of such a young kid being the one to suss out the vampire nest would be a gross understatement. A few even openly laughed as if Gordon were joking, but he only shot them warning glares in response. Gordon Walker was not a joking man. One hunter, however, didn’t seem to get the message.

“That’s impressive. Usually hunters your age can’t tie their shoes without a - a device telling them how to do it.”

More widespread laughter echoed through the garage then, and Shiv rolled her eyes. Older hunters were always set in their ways. It's why they were a dying breed and many younger hunters struggled to learn what the previous generation was too stubborn to teach them. Even Gordon chuckled a little, though a bit subdued. Andy simply stared around at them all with empty, tired eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd been laughed at by a bunch of grizzled, old hunters, and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

The first hunter, with very little amusement in the other’s joking, asked sincerely, “So tell us, how’d you find the nest, son?”

Andy tweaked his jaw a bit and shrugged, just the faintest hint of a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he said, “Oh, with my devices.”

Shiv grinned to herself as the other hunters glared around at each other, wondering if it was supposed to be another joke. Andy found her eyes among the crowd, and Shiv winked at him. Just wait until he had to explain to them what an _app_ was, she thought and decided to grab another beer from the cooler.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! We said we were amping up our upload schedule, and we are. Expect to see us every weekday until Blood is finished. Which, in all honesty, is going to take awhile.
> 
> Gordon, FYI, is played by Sterling K. Brown, just like he was in the show. If you are interested in seeing a truly terrifyingly wonderful performance, and get the creeps from this guy, I recommend "Bloodlust" from season 2, episode 3. The whole show is on Netflix, save the most recent season since it's not finished yet.

Las Vegas, Nevada   
May, 2011

After Gordon finished relaying the details of the plan, the other hunters eventually left the garage to find more beer and snacks in the backyard, leaving only Gordon and Andy cleaning up the notes and putting them all back in order. Andy lifted one picture from the table, a selfie Miles had taken with  _ Satisfaction  _ looming in the background like an omen.

Gordon seemed to notice and cleared his throat, “I’d like to say that I taught you everything you know, but I make it a policy never to lie when there’s beer around.”

Andy dropped his head and the photo. He didn’t feel like listening to Gordon sing his praises right now, not when he’d had to endure those narrow-minded, hard-hearted… Andy took a deep breath and eventually managed a nod as he glanced over the map again. “I don’t like the plan, Gordon. I don’t like splitting up again.”

Patiently, Gordon stepped closer to the younger hunter. “We’ll have that phone system Shiv built us like always. It’s never failed us before.”

Andy shrugged out of Gordon’s reach, knocking the stack of papers in his hands against the table to straighten them out before slipping them into a folder. Sure, the system had never failed them. Shiv was a genius. But it hadn’t saved Miles either, not to mention there was still so much they hadn’t yet learned about the nest itself. There were just too many variables, too many ways that this could go wrong. Fangs weren't just mindless animals. They were human once, and they were cunning, fast, not to mention cruel.

“I don’t know, Gordon. These creeps are already using some pretty sophisticated programming to catfish people.” Andy sighed and dropped the file onto the table with a loud smack, going to lean against one wall of the garage instead. “Everything we’ve seen around the joint is hard-wired, what if our signal gets cut off? What if we can’t talk to each other? How am I supposed to signal the second wave?”

Gordon set his jaw. Andy was one of the only people - maybe the only person still alive - that Gordon would take this kind of questioning from, but that didn’t mean he would change his mind, not even for his most loyal prodige. “I understand where you’re coming from, I do. But we don’t have much of a choice. You guys get in with your invitations, case the joint, and then give us the word, and we storm in like a wave of hellfire.” He sounded inspiring. He really did; it's why so many hunters were willing to follow him.

But it didn't change the fear twisting up Andy's throat. He rubbed his sweating palms up and down his jeans as Gordon studied him.

“What happened to Miles was an accident. We’ll be more careful this time.”

But Andy just sighed deeply and shook his head. “It’s not just about Miles.” He pushed off the wall again and started pacing through the room. “Okay, that’s the one thing I still don’t get... Why didn’t they kill him? Either suck him dry or rip his throat out for being a hunter - they clearly knew he was one. We all heard it. But no, they turn him?” Andy’s voice was choked now, twisted in confusion. “Why? Why let him live?”

“I wouldn’t call what they did to him anywhere close to living. He attacked you, Andy,” Gordon growled, ever the realist. Sometimes Andy hated how easy this all was to him. Sometimes, very rarely and in his worst moments, Andy envied it.

“But he was just-”

“A mindless, bloodthirsty monster,” Gordon reminded him, maybe a little louder than necessary, and Andy clenched his jaw as Gordon came closer, trying to catch Andy’s gaze. “That’s all that vampires are. You know that.”

Andy finally looked up at Gordon, desperation and fear and loss all circling behind his eyes. “Sure, it’s just... I don’t know. Maybe I’m…”

“Not up for it?” Gordon asked, not judging or even disappointed, just sincere, and somehow, that made Andy feel all the worse.

Outside the door to the garage, Shiv approached, her phone glowing in one hand as she raised the other to knock before entering. But on the other side of the door, she could hear two voices - Andy and Gordon’s - and neither of them sounded happy. She paused and listened.

_ “Andy, I have a lot of kids that I teach, I do, because those old bozos out there certainly won’t take time to pass on our knowledge to the next generation. Now, I’d never admit this to anyone, but you might be my favorite.” _

Shiv’s eyebrows raised, but she didn’t make a sound.

Andy, on the other hand, scoffed at the idea. He knew he wasn’t the best hunter Gordon had ever taught, not the best killer anyway. But Gordon came and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him a bit so that Andy would look him in the eyes again.

“No, no, I mean it. You’ve got instincts like I’ve never seen. You’re creative, practical, and most importantly, you’re grounded.” Gordon pushed at Andy’s chest with one finger, and the younger hunter took a step back, diverting his gaze again. “You know who you are and how far you’ll go. I’ve been trying to plan this raid since I first started hunting, probably back when you were still in diapers, but you and a couple other kids managed to track down the nest in a few months? I can’t wrap my head around that.”

Andy gave a bashful smile towards his shoes.

“If we’re finally doing this, I need you at the helm. I wouldn’t want anyone else there,” Gordon assured him. Andy watched his mentor and thought of those days when Gordon had first taken him under his wing, saved his neck more times than he could count. Maybe he was rough around the edges - all hunters were - but he hadn’t steered Andy wrong before. Because Andy was still standing there breathing, and he had Gordon Walker to thank for that.

“I’ll be there,” Andy promised, finally feeling the resolution of it in his gut. He realized even after he'd said it that he didn’t want to back down, not when they were this close. He’d sleep easier at night knowing they’d cleaned out that nest, knowing they were protecting people, knowing that Miles hadn’t died for nothing.

Gordon looked up, nodded his head, “Thank you.”

Pursing her lips and quirking her eyebrows, Shiv pushed through the door into the garage. Both men turned to her as she held up her phone and nodded towards Andy. “Check your email.”

Andy reached around to pull his phone from his back pocket and checked it. Sure enough, he had a new email. Gordon blinked back and forth between the two of them as Andy quickly scanned the contents of the message. Shiv flashed the screen at Gordon, shrugging one shoulder.

“We got in.”

Gordon took a deep breath, and Andy continued to stare at his phone screen. Years of hunting, months of research, weeks of sleepless nights, and they were finally in.

* * *

Andy was still awake as the sun rose on the day of the raid.

He could hear the house bustling with activity, hunters rising, gathering their gear, Gordon barking orders like a drill sergeant, but Andy sat facing the open window and watched the sky change over the desert, dread nagging at his stomach. He’d been over the plan in his mind about a hundred times at least, every step, every angle, every way it could go wrong.

He’d tried to convince himself a hundred times to call Nate and let him know, just in case… But he hadn’t been able to work up the courage. Besides, he had a feeling that if Nate knew what he was about to do, he’d break his neck.

His fingers felt frozen stiff around the handle of his machete as he finally set it aside to force himself through his morning routine in a haze. When Andy missed lunch, Shiv left a sandwich outside his room. She got the feeling he didn’t like having the other hunters around any more than she did. When it was almost time to head out, Shiv knocked on the door to his room.

“You ready in there?” she called, and Andy looked down at himself.

After his shower that morning, Andy had just slipped back into his clothes from the day before. They were the cleanest ones he had since laundry had been a little low on the to-do list next to finding the vampire nest and getting inside. “Uh… sure.”

_ “Mm-hm.” _ She sounded more than a little skeptical.  _ “Well, be sure to comb your hair and wash behind your ears. You’ll want to look nice for your date, after all.” _ Andy thought she’d left when he heard her add, “ _ Oh, and don’t forget the eyeliner.” _

As Shiv’s heavy boots headed down the hallway towards the rest of the hunters, Andy turned his head to look at the costume hanging in the mostly empty closet. He sighed and slowly stood up, muscles aching. Leave it to Shiv to make a date sound far more threatening than literal vampires.

They arrived outside  _ Satisfaction  _ well after dark, and glancing up and down the strip, Andy noted all the middle-aged hunters dressed like tourists as he passed them. They certainly weren’t the most inconspicuous bunch, but a few of them still knew how to look like they were having a good time.

At least he hoped they were pretending.

Gordon picked him out of the crowd and, speaking into the mic he was wearing, reminded Andy, “We’ll be waiting for your signal. You’ve got twenty minutes exactly or else we’re coming in after you regardless.”

Andy saluted in Gordon’s general direction in reply, adjusting what looked like a hearing aid in his ear but what was really a small bluetooth device. He took his phone from his pocket to check not only the time but the bluetooth signal. All good as far as he could tell, and it looked like he was going to be right on time for his date.

Andy was fiddling with his collar absent-mindedly when he heard Gordon add,  _ “Nice tux, by the way.” _

Andy squared his shoulders a little, a smirk crossing his face. He wore a three piece, embroidered black tuxedo with a white dress shirt and ridiculously frilly cravat - right out of a classic  _ Dracula  _ movie save the black jeans. And he had to say, he rocked it.

“Thanks.” Andy adjusted the sleeves a bit and rolled his shoulders as he neared the nightclub. “Let’s just be glad the costume store had something that fit.”

He headed inside.

The lobby was small with only room enough for a few people and a bouncer standing beside the barred door. A young woman, Elle Woods if she’d been raised by the Addams Family, was among those waiting to go inside, and when she saw Andy approach, she perked up, brushing her long, golden hair over one shoulder.

“You must be Andrew,” she gasped as she sprang to meet him. “You look just like your profile picture - thank God - and so dashing, too.” She ruffled his cravat a little, immediately friendly, and Andy smiled, more than a bit overwhelmed. She was definitely the girl from the app, though with less fake blood dripping from her teeth than she’d had in her profile picture.

But Andy recovered quickly, bowing slightly at the hip and flashing her a smile. “And you must be Ireena. You are even more lovely in person.”

Ireena waved a hand gloved in black lace through the air and looped her arm with his. “Andrew, if you keep up this charm, I think tonight is going to go very, very well.”

God, he hoped so, though maybe not in the way she was thinking.

They headed inside then, flashing the invitations on their apps to the guard as he waved them through the heavy velvet curtains into a narrow brick hallway. As they entered the main room of  _ Satisfaction _ , Andy couldn’t help but get caught up in the atmosphere. The nightclub was a Gothic lover’s paradise. Seating made of repurposed coffins, scarlet silk adorning every surface, black candelabras dripping white wax - it was a lot to take in.

Ireena tugged him towards the bar that was - of course - shaped like a coffin. As they passed through the main room, Andy caught sight of Shiv in her Gothic princess dress dripping with lace over killer black, leather boots, her date nowhere to be seen. She gave him a humored wave and stifled a laugh as Andy practically tripped over his own feet at the sight of her.

At the bar, he and Ireena ordered their drinks and settled into pleasant conversation that Ireena kept trying to turn towards her “deep and passionate” love for Gothic literature which Andy knew next to nothing about. So he mostly just smiled politely and listened as she ranted about religious wars, Catholic symbolism, and the Eucharist while he sipped his drink.

Eventually, Andy noticed Shiv slide onto the stool next to him. She smiled at the bartender while drumming her black nails on the polished wood. “Hi, I’ll take another, um, ‘Dementia Raven Way,’ please?”

As the bartender turned away to prepare it, Andy looked over at her with raised eyebrows. “That’s a pretty serious drink.”

“As serious as a heart attack,” Shiv muttered, rolling her eyes. “I came here for a good time, and honestly…” She turned her gaze, which Andy followed, to spot Shiv's date, a scrawny guy with greased-back hair and a ridiculous widow’s peak, “dancing” on a pole in the center of the room while the actual dancers stood back and humored him with suppressed laughter and mild applause. Shiv winced. “...I’m feeling so attacked right now.”

“Yikes,” Andy said as he glanced over at Ireena who was staring wistfully into a tank of piranhas that was set up behind the bar. Then he looked back to Shiv, trying once again to take her in. She'd even dusted the skin of her arms and face in what appeared to be some kind of glitter - and since _when_ did vampires sparkle? Andy still couldn't wrap his head around that one, but Shiv made it look stunning. “Well, I think you look great. Boots and all. Actually - are those alligator skin?”

Flattered, Shiv looked down at the boots herself. They were her favorites. Then back up at Andy, at his dopey, sweet expression, and she quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, a charmer, I see.”

Andy raised his hands defensively, still smiling. “No, no, I’m being honest!”

“Oh, so a charmer and a liar, too?”

She was teasing, but Andy couldn’t help the antsy feeling growing in his chest. He fiddled with his earpiece and chewed his lip. “I can’t wait to get out of here.” His eyes cut back to Ireena who had gotten up to talk to another girl, helping to untangle a spider clip from the girl’s long, black hair. “She clearly doesn’t belong here,” he said to Shiv.

“Less than half the people in this room do,” Shiv admitted as she leaned back against the bar and scanned the occupants of the room. It wasn't easy to spot the fangs from the humans, the snakes in the grass. Glancing over to catch Andy’s gaze, she whispered, “I’m surprised they haven’t torn the place down yet.”

“Give it another ten minutes.” Andy finished off the last of his drink and motioned to the bartender for a refill. “Then we can move this party outside.”

“Nothing like cool desert air to refresh the pores.” Shiv cleared her throat and got up. “Speaking of, I’m going to go freshen up a bit before things get real.” She winked at him and headed in the direction of the bathrooms, Andy watching her with mounting anxiety.

She passed Max and Erma who had only just arrived with their own dates, whispering something as they nodded to her. Before disappearing around a corner, Shiv gave Andy one last smile, and his heart hammered in his chest - partially from the fear and maybe because she really was gorgeous in that dress. Feeling more alone than ever, Andy drew his phone from his pocket and once more checked the bluetooth signal.

The color drained from his face.

The signal was gone.

Outside, Gordon checked his watch - 12:51 AM. “Nine minutes,” he reported into his mic, but he got no answer from anyone inside. He glanced over at the hunter next to him and back towards the club.

Something wasn’t right.

Andy glanced back towards the bathrooms, wishing that Shiv would reappear already, wishing that he could hear Gordon, getting more and more nervous by the second. But it was fine, it was fine. In about eight minutes, Gordon and the others would come charging in whether Andy gave them the signal or not. That's what they'd agreed on, and Andy had to trust his mentor. He turned back to the bar where Shiv’s new drink was waiting, and snatching it up, he downed it quickly. Then as he let out a slow breath, he was going to get up before Ireena reappeared right in front of him.

“Andrew, honey!”

“Oh - Ireena! Hey!” He swallowed as the burning in his chest and stomach started to make him a little sick - that drink was no joke. But he quickly plastered on his sweetest smile for his date. “I was just - coming to look for you.”

Ireena didn’t bat an eye. “Really? That’s so sweet! Because I saw you making eyes at that other girl, the goth beauty with the cute boots, not even two minutes ago!”

Now not only was his throat and stomach burning, his face was, too. “Who, her? She just came to order a drink at the same time -”

“Furthermore,” Ireena continued, raising one finger towards Andy’s nose and, continuing in the same knowledgeable tone that she’d explained the nuances of Protestant prejudices, said, “did you know that vampires mate for life?”

Andy felt his brain short circuit. “Um… what?”

“And I know we just met, but I was really digging you,” she pouted a little as she spoke and smoothed a hand over the lapel of Andy’s tux, “and I’m so ready to move into the ‘unholy matrimony’ part of my afterlife, but you just ruined that for me!”

“I - uh - come again?”

She smiled, batting her eyelashes up at him. “So I guess I’ll just have to kill you for it!” Suddenly she blinked, flashing blood red eyes and widened her smile as her fangs sprouted.

Well, that certainly made much more sense than everything else coming out of her mouth, Andy thought, and leaped back from her. He pulled a short machete from inside his coat, swinging for her. The whole room stopped as Ireena’s head rolled across the floor and came to a stop at the base of the stripper pole.

All eyes turned on Andy, and he gulped visibly. Definitely the worst date he’d ever been on. And it was about to get worse.

“Well,” Max said, clearing his throat, “lovely party. Great place, but unfortunately…”

“We’ve got to crash it!” Erma slipped two machetes from within the skirt of her dress as she and Max stood, and the room descended into absolute chaos.

The carnage was unreal, and a few times, Andy's feet slipped in the layer of gore that already coated the floor. Half the room were hunters, the other half fangs, all dressed in Gothic-era clothing. And while the hunters had come prepared, it was obvious that the vampires had the home field advantage. Seeing the other hunters struggle, Andy leaped toward Max and Erma only to have the bartender snag the back of his collar and slam him down onto the bar, teeth bared and eyes wild.

“You never paid for your drink!”

Andy grabbed a nearby glass bottle and smashed it over the man’s head, stabbing him in the throat with what remained in his hand after the bottle shattered. As the bartender scrambled back, Andy pulled himself free and reached for his fallen weapon. He looked around the battle.

It was a bloodbath in the truest form of the word.

Vampire heads rolled, but more and more of them seemed to appear from every dark corner and doorway. Erma screamed as a vampire sank its fangs into Max’s throat, and a few more hunters were already on the ground, lying in pools of their own blood.

They were losing, and if any of them stood a chance of surviving this, Gordon and the reinforcements had better hurry, or they all needed to retreat immediately.

And then Andy remembered. “Shiv!”

Beyond the walls of the nightclub, the rest of the hunters waited for Gordon’s command. The older hunter standing with him started to move towards the doors, declaring “It’s time!” But he hadn’t made it two steps before Gordon grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards.

More hunters began to gather. “Gordon what’s going on?”

Pulling his arm from Gordon’s grip, the man asked, “What’s the hold up? They need us in there!”

Gordon, however, only shook his head. “Something’s not right.”

Silence fell over the slowly growing group until they heard police sirens in the distance, getting closer and closer. Then Gordon’s face hardened. “Fall back,” he told them, and when some of them wouldn’t move, he shoved them along. “I said, fall back!”

Stealing last glances in the direction of the nightclub, of those they were leaving behind to the mercy of the fangs and the police, they retreated, and over Gordon’s shoulder, the sirens and flashing lights converged on the nightclub, the police bursting inside with their guns drawn. They could hear the screams from inside clear across the strip.

And Gordon never once looked back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's favorite blonde returns!

The Roadhouse  
May, 2011  
One Week Later...

A cherry red Jeep hugged every turn of the winding gravel road that led to the Roadhouse. Ro parked around back and hopped down from her vehicle with a box full of supplies hugged to her chest. Humming to herself, she all but skipped across the grass to the door, and inside, she dropped the supplies onto a spare table and glanced around the room. Slowly, she slid her big round sunglasses up on top of her head.

The Roadhouse was currently empty in the early afternoon hours, and music blared over the jukebox in the corner as Nathan Smith, his glasses on and his flannel tied around his waist, swept the floors of the bar room. Dancing along and periodically singing into the broom handle as if it were a microphone, he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, and more importantly, he didn’t seem to notice her come in.

With a smirk, Ro propped a hand on her hip and watched him in utter amusement for a few moments before she strode across the room and unplugged the jukebox. The music stopped short as Nate continued singing. Then realizing something killed the music, Nate spun around in shock, eyes wide as he tried and failed to lean casually on the broom handle and ultimately stammered, “R-Ro! Hey! Uh… Didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“I can see that,” she giggled and returned to the table to retrieve the box full of supplies, but when she did, she froze, looking down at the table. She ran a finger over the surface of the table and frowned.

Nate set the broom aside and came to her side. “Oh - let me get that.” He took the box from her, carrying it back behind the bar as Ro took a moment to look around at the rest of the Roadhouse more closely.

She'd only been gone for an hour or two, and she honestly hadn't expected him to get much done but... The place was immaculate. In fact, Ro was almost positive she’d never seen it so clean.

Nate shifted awkwardly as he waited for Ro to look back at him. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open, and he was almost positive she was disappointed. He shrugged. “No good?”

“‘No good’?” Ro shouted and turned in a circle, looking around again. “This is-” She waved around wordlessly, and Nate scratched at the back of his head.

“You said as long as I swept up around here and there and kept the tables from getting too sticky I could bunk in the back.” Natee shuffled nervously and pulled the rag he'd been using from his back pocket as if to emphasize his point, shrugging some more. “So I did.”

Ro scoffed and scrubbed at her temples with the tips of her fingers. “And _this_ is what you think I meant by ‘here and there’?”

Nate chewed his bottom lip and glanced around again for himself.

Shaking her head, Ro started to walk towards the back of the Roadhouse. “This is what I get for hiring someone who has never done house chores in his _life!_ ”

Nate paused for a moment and then started to chase after her. “So, is it not good or what? Ro? Ro!”

Later that night, things at the Roadhouse were in full swing, the room packed with people, the jukebox playing nonstop, and Nate running around to serve tables as Ro manned the bar. As usual, Nate kept an ear out for any interesting gossip, and he was a natural at chatting it up with the other hunters in the bar. While a few weeks ago the majority of them might’ve shot him on sight, it seemed that as long as he was in Ro’s good graces, he was in theirs as well.

Sliding behind the bar and slinging a towel over his shoulder, Nate nodded toward a large group in the corner. “I’ve got three tables waiting on tall ones over there, Boss!”

“Well, maybe if you learned how to actually pour drinks into the glasses instead of all over the floor you’d have them a little faster!” she fussed at him even as she started loading a round tray full of glasses that were almost bigger than her.

Nate gave her a wink and lifted one tray as she filled another. “What can I say? I never touch the stuff!” Though, from his previous, and less friendly, visits to the Roadhouse, they both knew that wasn’t true.

But Ro rolled her eyes at him - it was all in the past now - and waved him away to keep working.

Once the rush had passed, Nate busied himself cleaning off the tables and gathering up empty glasses. As usual, a few stragglers still hung around and chatted quietly to the tune of old country songs. From behind the bar, Ro glanced in their direction. “Ron, Clem, fifteen minutes ‘til we close, you hear me? Don’t make me have Nathan here toss you out on your rears!”

As the two men raised their heads to look at him, Nate shrugged his shoulders with a smirk, and the two old guys waved them off good-naturedly before going back to their conversation. Nate grabbed his tray and headed over to their table. “Can I take your drinks?”

“Only if you refill ‘em,” Ron muttered while rubbing at his beard.

Nate just shook his head. “Sorry, fellas, last call was half an hour ago.”

They grumbled at him, and Nate decided to clean another nearby table instead and wait for them to leave. He couldn’t help but listen in on their conversation as the other guy, Clem, cleared his throat and grumbled, “You hear what happened last weekend? Some fool lead a raid on Vegas, got a bunch’a youngins killed.”

Nate paused, bracing himself against the table he had been cleaning as his mind started to reel.

“Really?” Ron asked, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe anyone would be stupid enough to try it. “Any idea how many they lost?”

Clem smacked one hand on the table and shrugged his weary shoulders. He looked like a guy who had been on the road all day every day of his life, but even his weather-worn features were softened at the news he was conveying. “No, no one’s talking numbers yet. Heard it was a lot, though.”

“Shame, but hey, at least they bit it in Vegas,” Ron joked, and they both broke into wheezing laughter, Clem smacking Ron’s arm - gallows humor as always with hunters.

“Wait,” Nate said, unable to just listen anymore. He turned to the two men. “You said ‘youngins’? As in young hunters?”

They both stared up at him, offended that he would interrupt their conversation a second time, but the longer Nate thought about it, the more desperate he started to feel. Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard from Andy in at least two weeks, and he had promised to keep in touch. If something had gone wrong, Andy would call him, right? To let him know he was alive, in case word got out about the failed attempt at taking down the nest. Unless...

“Well, do you know who?” Nate asked, wringing the rag that he was cleaning with between his hands.

Ron squinted up at him. “What difference does it make?” And Nate suddenly remembered why he avoided older hunters. Most of them had lost their ability to mourn. They’d lost too many people, seen too much, and it made them callous. And insufferable.

“It makes a difference to me,” Nate snapped. "That's why I'm asking."

Clem glared down into his empty mug and then up at Nate. He tapped one finger against the glass. “My whistle’s a little too dry to remember.”

Nate rolled his eyes.

But a few moments later, he returned with two full pints of beer and dropped them onto the table between the two men. The hunters looked from the drinks up to Nate in surprise, and he pulled up a chair to sit down at the table as well.

“So, tell me about Vegas.”

Not an hour later, Ro raced out the back door of the Roadhouse to find Nate loading his few belongings into the back of the Firebird and slamming the trunk closed. She tiptoed across the gravel to him in her slippers and her pajamas, a silk robe wrapped around her shoulders.

“Nate, honey? What happened? Where are you going?” She hoped she hadn't offended him somehow. As much as they liked to take shots at one another, Ro did enjoy having him around as an extra pair of hands to help out, and Heaven knew Matt probably rested easier at night knowing his little brother was with Ro instead of running around with some less-trustworthy hunters.

But Nate kept his back to her, rubbing his thumb over the palm of his other hand as he muttered, “I’ve got to go to Vegas.”

Ro frowned at his hunched shoulders. “Vegas? What - why?”

Nate turned to her then, and Ro could see in his eyes that this wasn’t just Nate running off for any other hunt. This was serious. Something had him rattled. He gripped his hands into fists and glanced towards the road. “You heard those two, Ro, it was a massacre. I’ve got - I’ve got to go check on someone… Maybe I can help.”

“But Vegas is the vampire center of the midwest!” Ro shouted as if he needed reminding. If she wanted to keep Matthew from worrying about his little brother, letting him run off to Vegas was not the way to do it. Every hunter worth their salt knew what Vegas meant. That’s why the smart ones avoided it like the plague, but Nate knew that. So, a little softer, she asked, “Have you ever even hunted a vampire before?”

Not many people would talk about it, even fewer told stories that were true, but Nate seemed frozen, lost in memories he was either too afraid to talk about or too ashamed. Ro couldn’t tell.

Finally he answered. “Not in a long time, but I’m not going to hunt fangs, Ro.” Nate finally met her eyes, trying to make her understand. The last thing he needed was a worried Rosanna on his hands calling up Matt and raising all kinds of alarms. “Just have to look into someone who I bet was there. He’s one of the best there is, but I haven't heard from him in a while.”

Ro wasn’t sure what to say, if there was anything she _could_ say, that might make him change his mind. So she watched helplessly with her arms wrapped around herself as he climbed into the Firebird. Ro didn't know exactly what he was getting himself into. She only knew that she had a very bad feeling about this - a feeling that if Nate left now, she wouldn’t see him again, at least not for a long time.

Pausing, Nate looked back up at her. “I’m sorry, Ro. You can fire me if you want, but I’ve got to go-”

“Oh, hush,” she told him and shook her head with a gentle smile. Her own feelings aside, she couldn’t ask Nate not to go, especially not when someone’s life might be on the line. “Go check on your friend! That’s the point of friends, right? To pull each other out of the fire?”

“Yeah well, I just hope that I’m not already too late.” Nate turned the key in the ignition, and the Firebird came to life. There were at least four hours between him and Las Vegas, and it was going to be a stressful four hours, too. Swallowing around the nervous lump in his throat, he gave Ro one last well-meaning smile. “Thanks, Ro, for everything. I’ll keep you updated.”

“You do that, hun,” she said as she closed the door for him and stood back. Watching the tail lights retreat through the trees, worry twisted like a knife in her gut. If she was right, Nate was definitely walking head first into trouble. She just hoped he'd make it out on the other side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold:
> 
> the angst!!

Las Vegas, Nevada  
May, 2011

Tracking down a vampire hunter crazy enough to lead a raid on the biggest nest in Vegas was actually easier than Nate had expected. Apparently the survivors of the raid weren’t exactly hiding with their heads in the sand. In fact, they were holed up at a bar outside the town eating, drinking, and laughing - not exactly mourning the ones they’d lost.

Nate entered through the front doors plastered with fliers for live shows and community events, and he stopped just inside to scan the room. Taking in the casual atmosphere, the music playing over loudspeakers from every corner, the copious amount of alcohol getting passed around, Nate was already pissed by the time he spotted Gordon Walker, and seeing him there among his buddies, with his feet propped up in an empty chair and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world, it only made Nate angrier. He stalked over to their table where one of the hunters was complaining loudly.

“I brought my good stuff to this showdown too, and didn’t even get to use them.”

“Not our fault the cops showed up.”

“Sure,” one of them pointed to another, “I’ve been to prison before. I ain’t going back, not for the nest, not for nothing.”

“Even a bunch of snot-nosed kids.”

The others all grumbled in agreement before another piped up, “Well, with any luck, we’ll get another crack at those dirty fangs here pretty soon, eh, Gordon?”

Walker shrugged it off, but the others were egging him on, eager for some action. They’d missed out on their chance for a good fight, and they weren’t willing to let it go before they’d gotten what they’d come there for. Finally, Gordon conceded, “The way I see it, we don’t have much of a choice. The nest knows we’re here, so there’s no point in sitting around waiting for their numbers to stock back up.”

“Sure, strike while the ugly bastards are running around headless!” one of them shouted, and the whole table broke out in cheers and laughter.

Once he couldn’t take anymore, Nate approached their table and crossed his arms across his chest, if only so he wouldn’t immediately start swinging at them. “Well, nothing like a little gallows humor to alleviate the stress of mourning.”

The whole table turned to look at him, summing Nate up and wondering who this young punk was stepping in on the middle of their good time, but Nate had his gaze set on Gordon. Nate could smell the crazy on this guy. Though he'd never met Gordon personally, Andy had said enough for Nate to decide he'd sooner take on a nest of vampires with a hand tied behind his back than work with Gordon Walker. Underneath Nate’s glare, however, Gordon seemed only mildly annoyed that the kid was there, and eventually, he even smirked up at him.

“Nathan Smith.” He tilted his head back to regard Nate, eerily cool under pressure. “You’re one sorry piece of mud I didn’t think I’d ever have the displeasure of meeting.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Nate growled.

One of the other hunters set his drink down and leaned over the table to get a better look at Nate. “Wait, ‘Smith’? As in John Smith?” His eyes swept up and down Nate like he was looking for something but wasn’t exactly impressed with what he was seeing. It was a look that Nate was very used to getting when someone mentioned his last name around hunters that knew his dad. “You really John Smith’s boy?”

“Not that you can see the uh,” Gordon motioned to his face, “resemblance.”

It took everything in Nate not to start a fight right then and there, but as mad as he was, he knew he was outnumbered and outmatched. It wasn’t his fault his blue-collar red-blooded American father had married a beautiful, graceful Korean woman, leaving Nate a mix of the two. It wasn't his fault that his dad was a legend among hunters either, though he certainly got enough judgement for not measuring up.

Gordon took a long sip from his beer, obviously amused by the color rising in Nate’s cheeks. Finally, he set the drink down again and sighed. “What are you doing here, boy?”

Sneering, Nate cocked his head to the side. “Half the country is talking about your little stunt from a couple days ago. I’m just here to see if there're any survivors.”

The hunters all scoffed among each other, but Gordon never once tore his eyes away from Nate’s, didn’t so much as twitch. Finally, one of the others asked, “What? You? Hunting fangs? Why don’t you go back to haunting playpens?” Again they laughed, shoving at one another and knocking back their drinks.

“I’m not talking about vampire survivors,” Nate snapped, and a muscle in Gordon’s jaw twinged slightly. “Was Andy with you?” Rolling his eyes, Gordon went back to his drink, and Nate had half a mind to knock it out of his hand. “Gordon!”

“He was,” the older hunter growled into his mug.

Nate felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach where worry had been knotting up since he overheard the news of the raid. He remembered his last conversation with Andy in person - about how Gordon had been calling him, asking for help on a job, practically demanding that he drop everything and come to Vegas. Now Gordon was out drinking with his buddies, and Andy…

“Where is he now?”

Gordon looked up at him wordlessly, moving one hand around to gesture at the people there. Andy wasn’t with them, obviously. So that only meant one thing, and Nate lunged at him, “You son of a-!” before some of the other hunters sprang up to hold him back, one on both of Nate’s arms. The commotion made the rest of the bar go silent as everyone turned to see what was going on.

Annoyed, Gordon got to his feet and once again sized Nathan up like he was a hunting dog rather than a man. “Don't waste your anger on me, boy. We didn’t kill him!” He tilted his head to the side, eyes widening. “And if it’s any consolation,” he hissed sarcastically, “the fangs didn’t either. But he’s still good as dead as far as I’m concerned.”

But Nate couldn’t care less what Gordon Walker thought, and he shook himself free of the other hunters, desperately clinging to the idea that Andy might still be alive somewhere, no matter what Gordon was trying to imply. Taking a step closer to Gordon, he asked, “Where is he?”

Gordon raised his hands towards Nate as if he’d just somehow proved Gordon’s point, and he and the other hunters all laughed as they took their seats again. When Nate stood there, staring at them in confusion, Gordon sighed. “I don’t know where he is, boy, but hey, if you find him, you can have the first swing.” He raised an eyebrow at Nate. “Just make sure you’ve got your machete with you. You’ll need it.”

Ice cold fear replaced the fire in Nate’s gut, and he shook his head, not wanting to believe any of it. Giving Gordon one last disgusted scowl, he turned on his heel, shoved through the crowd of hunters, and fled the bar with the mocking remarks of the others trailing in his wake. Let them say what they wanted. Nate had a partner to find, a needle in the brightest, loudest, ugliest haystack in the country.

Gordon’s eyes followed Nate until he disappeared out into the night.

* * *

Ro had spoiled him, Nate realized, for staying in crappy motel rooms. His place at the Roadhouse hadn’t exactly been a five-star penthouse, but at least it was clean and came with good meals. The dingy motel room he currently sat in was practically crawling in places, and he tried not to look too hard at the corners as he sat in front of his laptop and frowned.

When his phone rang, Nate nearly jumped right out of his chair to snatch it up and answer. “Steph?”

 _“Hey, I just got your email,”_ she answered groggily through the phone. It was pretty late into the night, and Nate felt bad for disturbing her. But this was important.

This was Andy.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s…” He rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses with one hand. Every muscle in his body was coiled up tight, and he just kept thinking about Gordon Walker’s face and wanted to punch something. “Uh, did you manage to track that phone?”

_“Of course I did.”_

Nate’s spine straightened, his eyes popping open wide. “You did?”

 _“Of course,”_ Steph sounded a little insulted, and Nate wished he could have picked her up and spun her around. _“I just sent you the code to see the location for yourself.”_

His phone buzzed in his hand, and Nate looked down at it before turning his attention back to his laptop, pulling up the website Steph had told him about, and typing the code into a dialogue box. He waited for a moment as the search loaded, and suddenly, results began popping up from where the phone had been used recently - his roadmap to finding Andy.

“It’s working!”

Steph gave a long-suffering sigh, but Nate could hear the satisfied smile in her voice. _“Of course, it’s working! Now are you going to tell me who this person is that you’re stalking?”_

He didn’t want to worry her. She and Matt had enough on their hands as it was, and telling them that Andy was missing in Vegas after a raid on a vampire nest, that certainly wouldn’t help their paranoia that everything was out to kill them. Besides, if Nate had it his way, Andy would be back home, patched up, and watching cartoons in bed before morning. “They’re just another hunter I was supposed to meet up with a couple days ago, but they never showed.”

Stephanie yawned again and rubbed at her eyes while shifting her sitting position on the futon. She could hear Matt snoring from their bedroom, and because it was the first time he’d slept more than three hours straight since he’d gotten back from Idaho, Steph figured she could take the futon for one night. “You always so worried about missing appointments?”

“In Vegas?” Nate asked and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Definitely.”

Skip butted his head against Stephanie’s back, and she reached around to scratch behind his ears. “Okay, well, good luck.”

“Thanks, Cordy,” Nate whispered and thought about, not for the first time, exactly what he was getting himself into here. “Hey, um… about telling Matt about this…”

Steph pried her tired eyes open again and gazed around their tiny apartment, at all of Matt’s research littering the table, the kitchen counters, the refrigerator door. Ever since they'd learned the truth about what Afton was doing with those sigils, Matt hadn't stopped in his search for more of them. Not to mention, he'd begged Steph not to tell Nate about it, at least not until they knew more. It wasn't easy or ideal, but Steph knew how much pressure they were under. If they both tried to take on every fight that came their way, they'd crash and burn. “Listen, I want Matthew to focus on one thing at a time too. Don’t worry about me.” She let her eyes slip shut again. “Just worry about your friend."

After a pause, she whispered, as if she knew this was more important than Nate was letting on, "I hope you find them.”

Nate glanced back to the computer screen, to the little red pins in the digital map. Each pin was proof, hopefully, that Andy was still alive somewhere in the city. So long as he could keep a hand on Andy's pulse, even a digital one, it was all Nate needed to keep him going. “Me too. Thanks again, and I’ll talk to you later.”

“Love you,” Steph said through another yawn, her head already hitting the pillow as she reached over to close her own laptop screen.

And Nate blinked a moment, just a little taken aback, before he smiled and nodded. “You too, Cordy. Bye.” He hung up the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket before scrolling the mouse over the most recent location. An address popped up alongside the red pin, and Nate sent it to his phone before shoving his things into a bag and heading out.

 _What are friends for_ , he thought bitterly and hoped he wasn’t too late.

With all the lights of Vegas far in the distance, there wasn’t a star to be seen in the night sky above the back alleys weaving through rotting trash and staring people who looked scarier than some of the monsters Nate had faced-off against in the past. He kept a tight hold on the single strap of his backpack crossing over his chest, kept his head down as he checked his phone one last time before he walked up to the front door of a motel that could only be described as a slight upgrade from a crack den.

The “lobby” looked more like the entrance to a prison, reinforced glass between Nate and the man behind the desk as he stepped over a puddle of standing water and tried not to trip on the broken tile floor. He asked the man about any recent check-ins, a white guy, about his age, curly hair, and Nate didn’t miss that the man had reached for a gun behind his desk the moment Nate walked in.

“Yeah, there’s someone like that here. Looked like he’d been on the worst bender of his life,” the guy muttered. He vaguely motioned towards the stairs. “Room 65.”

Nate nodded his head in thanks and tried not to seem too eager as he took the stairs two at a time up to the top floor. It somehow looked even worse than the lobby, the single fluorescent light blinking in and out overhead. Nate made his way to a door he figured was to room 65, since the “5” was missing.

He picked the lock and let himself inside.

Sweeping his flashlight over the room, Nate saw nothing but stained gray walls and old furniture that looked like it had been picked up off the side of the road. A mattress along with some empty bottles and food wrappers were all shoved into one corner in what could’ve been the ugliest bird nest Nate had ever seen. He eased himself inside and closed the door quietly behind him, checking his phone again to make sure he was at the right location.

He raised his head. “Uh, room service?”

Silence shrouded the darkened room, and Nate picked his way through the refuse to the only source of light, a dim orange glow through the window on the other side of the room. He regarded the fire escape and the dark alley below, the sounds of traffic and shouting far in the distance.

“Charming.”

Nate took a step back from the window just as something grabbed him from behind and threw him against a nearby wall. His shoulder cracked hard against the drywall, and as the impact rattled through him, he dropped his flashlight. The light went out when it hit the ground, and his glasses skidded out of reach somewhere across the crusty carpet. With the breath momentarily knocked from his lungs, Nate slid to the floor, gasping, as his attacker - a shadowy figure looming above him - ducked and ran for the door.

“Freeze!” Nate commanded, grabbing his gun from his waist and aiming it up at the figure.

They did freeze, at least, lifting their hands slowly into the air. Nate pushed against the wall and got to his feet again. He kept his aim trained on the attacker. But then the figure chuckled humorlessly as Nate took a step closer.

“Go ahead, shoot me.” They hung their head. “You’d be doing me a favor.”

Nate felt his throat tighten. He knew that voice. “Andy?” As his partner turned to him, Nate sighed in relief, dropping his gun to his side. “What the hell, man? I’ve been worried sick-”

“Don’t!” Andy flinched back, and Nate did the same, confused by the sudden outburst.

“What?” he asked, the breath slowly returning to his lungs and his shoulder still pulsing from the impact.

Andy spoke through gritted teeth, “Don’t put your gun away. I don’t want to hurt you, Nate.”

Nothing about this made sense, and Nate blinked a few times, trying to wrap his mind around what Andy was saying. But he knew one thing for sure, he wasn’t about to shoot his best friend. “What happened, Pony?” Nate asked, pulling out an old nickname he hadn’t used since he and Andy first met. “Everyone’s saying there was some kind of… slaughter or something.”

Keeping to the shadows, Andy circled Nate slowly until his back was to the windows so the light wouldn’t shine on his face. Andy laughed again, still lifeless and cold. “You could say that, I guess.” He sounded hollow inside and broken.

The longer this went on, the more desperate Nate felt. Andy was never like this, never this distant. He was a ball of freaking sunshine and gumdrops who played the mandolin of all things and watched kid shows when he visited his parents and he made friends faster than Nate could start a fight. And now? Nate still couldn’t see his eyes, just the weird suit he was wearing. It was torn in places and covered in dried blood, so much blood. Swallowing, Nate bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. He wanted to rush to Andy and check his partner for injuries, but for some reason, he didn't think that was such a good idea at the moment. So, he just asked, “Well, are you okay? Are you hurt? Gordon said-”

“Gordon? What did Gordon say?” Andy asked, closing half of the distance between them so quickly that Nate staggered back a step in shock. Andy’s hands curled up at his sides. “Did you see him?”

Nate stammered a moment before he shrugged, trying to manage his usual easy smile, “Well, not romantically…”

Suddenly, so fast Nate didn’t have time to react, Andy had picked him up by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the window behind him. The light from outside finally shone over Andy’s features, catching in his bloodshot eyes, highlighting the yellow pallor of his skin. And Nate could see now that the blood covered Andy’s chest and throat as well and was even flecked around his mouth, clinging to the cravat that hung limp at his neck, staining his white shirt.

He looked like death, only death didn’t even look this bad.

“Did he follow you here?” Andy demanded, his voice shaking with fury. “Did you lead him to me?!”

Rather than react to - well, any of the string of confusing and terrifying things that had just happened, Nate just stared at his friend, his eyes scanning Andy’s face. “What happened to you?” he asked in a voice so soft it broke through Andy’s anger.

Blinking as if he was waking up from a bad dream, Andy realized what he’d done. Or almost did.

He lowered Nate to the floor, and choking on a sob, leaned his head forward to rest against Nate’s chest. The rage that had momentarily possessed him faded so quickly it left nothing but an empty shell behind.

“I got you, Pony, I got you,” Nate whispered as he wrapped his arms around Andy, even as his friend tried to protest and pull away. But it just made Nate cling tighter. “Hey. What - you think all it would take was a simple trip to Vegas and I’d lose your trail? News flash, you're stuck with me, pal.”

Andy chuckled again, this time with a little more genuine humor - only Nate could manage to make him smile at a moment like that - and he drew back from Nate as his partner reached up to flick at the ruined cravat.

“Dude, whose prom did you crash?”

But Andy only backed away again and shook his head. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said,” Nate quipped sort of subconsciously, reaching for Andy again to move aside the black coat and search for injuries. “Listen, you gotta talk to me. Are you hurt? Where did all of this blood-?”

Andy opened his mouth to answer but bristled suddenly instead, tilting his head back towards the door and listening. Nate paused, his whole body frozen as he braced himself in case Andy snapped again. “What?” he whispered, and Andy’s face darkened.

“They’re here to kill me.” Then gazing at Nate as his normally soft eyes sharpened to daggers, he grabbed the front of Nate’s shirt and tugged him closer an inch, his voice low as he spoke. “And please Nate, for the love of God, you have to let them.”

Gawking up at Andy as he began to hear voices down the hall, Nate felt as if Andy had slammed him against the wall again and knocked the breath out of his chest. Of all the people in the world that Nate cared about - and there weren't many - no one had ever asked that of Nate, to stand by and just... Especially not Andy, the one guy who saw the best in everyone and everything. So, Nate wrinkled his nose, pulled Andy's hand off his shirt, and pushed his partner behind him. “Yeah, no way in hell.” He aimed his gun for the door and took a deep breath. Screw that, he'd get Andy out of this alive even if it killed him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (mild trigger warning for suicidal ideation/mention on this one)

Las Vegas, Nevada  
May, 2011

The door burst in, wood splintering, and hunters flooded the room.

“Not another step!” Nate warned them.

He didn't recognize all of them, a few had been at the table with Gordon in the bar, and Nate hoped they hadn't followed him there. Regardless, they all froze at the sight of the young hunter holding the gun, Andy standing at his shoulder with dried blood on his face. Slowly one of the hunters raised his hand, a sawed-off shotgun gripped tight in the other. “Son, put the gun down.”

“You first, Pops,” Nate said, his eyes darting around to the other three hunters that stood behind the man in front. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, and frankly, I don’t give a rat’s mangy, flea-bitten ass. But my friend and I are walking out that door.” He saw Andy tense over his shoulder.

There was no way that Andy was going to convince Nate to let these hunters kill him, even though years of training told Andy it was the only option. His partner, however, was nothing if not hard-headed, and no matter what Andy did, Nate would throw himself between Andy and a bullet in a heartbeat.

Which was problematic considering just how many guns were aimed at both of them.

But as the hunters all started to argue with Nate, the edges of Andy’s vision went dark, and everything changed. Suddenly he was looking at himself and Nate through someone else’s eyes, a figure on another roof, their gun trained on Nate's back, and Andy saw himself spin around to stare up at the sniper through the window.

“Get down!”

He dragged Nate to the floor as the window behind them exploded, the glass shattering and skittering across the stained carpet floor as the other hunters all staggered back. The moment glass stopped flying, Andy lifted the pistol he had pulled from Nate's backpack and returned fire towards the sniper. Taking his cues from Andy, Nate raised his own gun at the hunters again to keep them at bay.

“I said stay back!”

Andy grabbed his friend's arm. “Nate! We gotta go!”

Glancing quickly between Andy and the other hunters, Nate jerked his head towards the shot-out window, “Ladies first.”

They didn't have time to argue. Andy vaulted through the window, avoiding the rest of the broken glass still wedged into the pane as he landed on the fire escape crouched and ready. He fired again at the sniper on the roof as Nate climbed out after him. Finally coming to their senses, the hunters inside the room opened fire just as Nate pressed his back to the brick wall beside the window. His eyes scanned the alley below in the low, orange light, pupils blown wide with adrenaline. Quickly, Andy kicked the ladder to the fire escape so that it dropped to the next level.

They bolted as the hunters inside took time to reload and rush the window.

Andy ran down first, Nate’s footsteps clanging on the rusted metal behind him. When he reached the fifth-floor level, Andy vaulted over the edge of the railing and fell the remaining five stories. Panic running cold through his veins, Nate leaned over the railing. “Andy!”

But below him, Andy landed harmlessly on the roof of the other hunters’ car, the metal collapsing beneath his weight.

Nate blinked once, a wave of dark hair hanging over his eyes. “Okay then,” his voice shook with confusion and terror. But he could hear the other hunters behind him, all trying to clamber out through the window at once. Time to move. So Nate flew down the winding fire escape, barely managing not to trip over his own feet.

On the ground, Andy jumped down off the car and scanned the alleyway as more hunters appeared from the street. A few of them were armed with machetes, but even more of them had guns, trained on Andy and ready to fire. He raised his pistol, feeling like a cornered animal. That's certainly what they saw him as, anyway. “Don’t come any closer!”

They paused momentarily, glancing around at one another, but it was obvious that Andy didn’t stand a chance against all of them at once. One hunter shook his head and moved a cautious step closer. “You’ve got nowhere to run, kid.”

Andy gritted his teeth. They were right, and he knew he should just give himself up. It’d be easier, but those machetes flashed in his vision. And his heart raced with an instinct to run, and something more than that. His stomach churned in time with their throbbing hearts. He could hear their blood rushing like rivers after a flash flood, roaring in his ears so loud he could hardly focus on anything else.

Then suddenly the hunters scattered, and Andy heard gunfire over the noise. Flinching, he waited for the pain to hit him, but he realized it was Nate shooting down at the hunters from above his head. It gave Andy just enough time to fling himself back behind the car he’d just landed on. Breathing hard and trying to clear his head, Andy turned to lay down fire long enough for Nate to reload.

As Andy kept him covered, Nate swung himself over the railing, shimmied down the last of the fire escape, and dropped to the ground. The moment his back hit the metal of the car, Nate tossed Andy a new clip which he caught and loaded in almost the same motion. Above their heads, one of the windows in the car blew out, raining glass around their heads as the hunters fired back.

“Move, move, move,” Nate hissed through his teeth and pushed at Andy's shoulder.

They left the cover of the car and bolted for the other end of the alley, dodging bullets and hopping over trash bags. More gunfire rained down on them from the hunters on the fire escape, and Nate shot back as he continued to shove Andy forward. He turned to hold off the others once Andy was out of the line of fire. When Andy broke through into the street on the other side, he reached back and snagged Nate’s shirt, dragging Nate along after him.

“Come on, hero!”

Together they sprinted into the dark street, disappearing among the shadows.

* * *

Exhausted and just barely upright, Nate slipped open the door to his motel room and aimed his gun inside first. Andy glanced inside over his shoulder as they both scanned the room. “It’s empty,” Andy muttered, and they moved inside quickly before Nate locked the door behind them.

Andy retreated further into the room, his hands in his hair. Nate dropped his backpack on the bed nearest the door and turned on the light. When the bulb overhead flickered to life, Andy gasped - the pain was like a string of explosives going off inside his skull - and he threw his arm up to cover his eyes. With a quick apology, Nate flicked off the lights, and Andy slumped into a chair in the corner, still shielding his eyes.

Numb from the fight, Nate set his gun down beside his bag then as Andy clutched at his head. Even though the room was almost completely dark, Andy still seemed to be in pain, but now that the rush of fleeing the other hunters wore off, Nate was starting to come to grips with the reality of what had just happened.

It pissed him off.

“So, you mind telling me what’s going on here?”

“Nate…” Andy sighed and pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes.

“Because I just opened fire on a bunch of hunters,” Nate said as he pointed back towards the door. “Our allies, Andy! They were trying to _kill_ you!”

Andy shot to his feet. Even from across the room, he could tower over Nate. “And you should’ve let them!” The way Nate watched him, like Andy might snap on him at any moment, it made his stomach twist up tight. Andy didn’t want to threaten his best friend, but he also didn’t want to be the reason that Nate got killed by a bunch of maniacs with shotguns and machetes. Under his breath, he repeated, “You should’ve let them.”

“Why?” Nate demanded, wishing that his friend would just tell him what was going on, what had happened, where he’d been since the attack on the nest. "Why, Andy?"

“Because-” he choked. Andy had hoped he wouldn’t have to spell it out for Nate. He thought that surely Nate would’ve figured it out by then, or better yet, those hunters would’ve killed him. And it wouldn’t matter anyway. Andy's voice broke as he gasped, “Because I’m a monster, Nate.”

He couldn’t stand it anymore. It was bad enough being turned, bad enough hiding for a week, flinching at every sound, bad enough running from hunters that wanted him dead. He'd almost called Nate a hundred times. But the idea of Nate knowing and being there and being in danger because of him when Andy would rather have the whole thing over with one way or another was too much.

Unable to breathe, Andy tore furiously at the cravat around his neck, and a shudder ran down his spine. The last of his strength gave way in a rush. He tried to drop back onto the chair, but he fell to his knees instead, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Rushing to his side, Nate knelt beside him as Andy sobbed, and he pulled his partner against his chest.

Sure, Nate was still pissed and scared out of his mind. Every nerve in his body was on fire. Hunters didn’t always get along, maybe even took a few swings at each other after one beer too many at the bar, but they didn’t wage war against one another, not the way those hunters had showed up to kill Andy. And if Nate had to guess, there would be more. But now Andy was sobbing in his arms, and Nate couldn’t imagine letting anyone near his partner, monster or not.

Exhausted to the point of collapsing, even as he wished he could fight them, Andy gave into the memories swirling in his mind, unable to stave off the last few flashes of that awful, bloody fight.

* * *

One Week Earlier  
Satisfaction Nightclub

Andy felt torn open.

On every side hunters were falling, fangs descending on them like rabid dogs, but he couldn’t break free long enough to get to them. There were so many monsters and so few hunters in comparison. He slashed and hacked, blood spraying across his face and his clothes - so much he was sure he'd never be able to wash it all off - but he was never free for a moment long enough to reach out, to help someone, to do anything but watch.

“Gordon!” Andy screamed into his microphone, pleading. “Gordon - now! Help us!”

Then one of the vampires dragged him to the ground, pinned him with one arm, and bared his fangs with glee. He quickly lunged for Andy’s throat, and Andy shut his eyes, knowing what came next.

“No!” a scream split the air.

The vampire paused just long enough for Andy to crack him in the side of his head with the hilt of his machete and throw him off. Standing to his feet and spinning around, Andy saw her. A male vampire had her by the hair, her long dreadlocks twisted in his pale fingers, and Shiv stared at Andy with broken, desperate eyes.

“Not so fast, hunter,” the vampire cooed, obviously pleased with himself, his clever cruelty. Slaughtering them like animals wasn't enough. There was so much more fun to be had, and this vampire seemed happy to oblige. His dark hair was mussed from the fight, and he already had blood on his lips. Not to mention he held himself like someone who was in charge. Andy noticed the other fangs all looked to him, as if waiting for orders.

And Andy realized, bile in this throat, that he was standing alone. All the other hunters were either dead or in the clutches of a vampire, but now, he could only see Shiv’s face, that monster’s grip on her hair and her hip sending Andy’s blood boiling. Slowly he raised his hands and dropped his machete to the floor at his feet.

“No - Andy, don’t!” Shiv cried, trying to break free, to reach him or stop him from just giving up.

The fang tightened his grip on her hair, and she whimpered in pain before growling and trying to fight back, unable to move within the vampire’s hold. Andy flinched as he struck her. “Stop! Just… let her go.”

“Her?” the vampire asked, amusement shining in his bloodshot eyes as he stared at Andy. “Just her? We've got a dozen - _over a dozen_ of your friends here, and you want us to let _this_ one go?” He pressed his cheek to Shiv’s, and she continued to struggle against his hold. “I’m sensing an attachment, hunter, and you know what happens when you get attached.”

Shiv bared her teeth, eyes glaring daggers at Andy. “You can’t-”

“Just - please,” Andy begged, hating how desperate he felt. If Gordon were there, he wouldn’t hesitate to go down fighting. He wouldn’t stop until every fang in the place was dead, no matter the cost, no matter how many lives were lost, until it was only him left.

But Gordon wasn’t there.

And Andy sure as hell wasn’t Gordon Walker.

“I’ll do anything,” Andy gasped and ignored the way Shiv’s gaze fell to the floor, like she was too ashamed to even look at him. “Anything.”

The vampire laughed at Andy’s offer and shook his head slowly. “No! No, you don't get to come into our home, attack our nest, and just expect us to let you go!” Andy’s eyes widened as the vampire’s fangs emerged in his mouth. Shiv froze, her gaze snapping up to his again. “I think we’re owed some small compensation for our troubles.” Turning his back to Andy in a graceful, dance-like bow, the vampire dipped Shiv, his fangs burying deep in her neck as she struggled weakly.

“No!” Andy screamed and fought to break from the two vampires who held him back, laughing at his meager attempts against their monstrous strength.

Once he was done, the vampire dropped Shiv’s body to the floor. Her head lolling to the side, her eyes empty and her neck stained in blood, Andy gagged at the sight of the torn flesh of her throat. The vampire turned back to Andy, his mouth covered in blood and gore as he licked his lips greedily.

Andy shook with an anger so intense, he thought his whole body would snap under the pressure of it. “You bastard!”

The vampire simply shrugged and raised his hands to the rest of the fangs in the room. “Everyone… it’s chow time!”

All at once, with terrible hunger, the vampires feasted on the remaining hunters, drinking them dry and dropping them to the floor like trash. The hunters screamed, cursed - not all of them dying with grace, but they all fell, all around Andy. They didn’t hear his wails among the feeding frenzy, didn’t see him collapse in despair at the sight.

One of the vampires holding him lunged for Andy next, but the male vampire who’d fed on Shiv stopped him. “No, no! Not that one.”

With his eyes full of burning, angry tears, Andy glared up once again at the vampire, at his horrible sunken eyes and the hideous fangs protruding from his sickening smile. He took Andy’s chin, lifted his other hand to his own mouth, and bit into his wrist until blood poured down his arm. “You're probably wondering why I didn't kill your little friend, eh? Your surfer dude a couple weeks back? Well…” Lunging suddenly, he forced Andy’s jaw open and shoved his bleeding wrist between Andy’s lips, smearing blood across his face as Andy tried to fight it, tried to spit it out.

“You’ll find out soon enough!”

“Andy! Andy!” Nate’s voice called distantly, somewhere beyond the memory swallowing him whole. “Stein! It’s me, it’s - it’s just me! Please!”

When Andy blinked, he could see that he had pinned Nate to the floor beneath him, one hand clutched tight around his partner’s throat, and Nate stared up at him with wide eyes, ready for anything and struggling just to breathe. Andy’s teeth were bared, and as he slowly realized what he’d almost done, he drew back quickly, revolted by himself.

As Andy huddled against the nearby wall, Nate sat up slowly, running a hand over his face and rubbing lightly at his bruised windpipe. “It’s okay, Andy,” Nate assured him hoarsely while Andy struggled just to hold himself together. “It’s going to be okay.”

Nate eased himself back against the chair again where he’d been before Andy woke from his nightmare and attacked him. His heart pounded in his ears. For a moment there, just a moment, he'd thought that Andy would really... But he hadn't, and Nate wasn't going to let it happen either. He wouldn't let Andy lose to this, not if he could help it.

“Just breathe, Pony. We’re going to fix this.”

* * *

They sat silently at the small, round table in the corner of the room, Nate staring down at the space between them. A mixture of horror and grief masked his face, and he swept a hand over his hair as he leaned forward onto his elbows. His hands folded together in front of his mouth to hide the tight clench of his jaw. Andy was still shaking after he’d filled Nate in on everything that had happened since he left the Roadhouse. Fear curled tight around his lungs as he waited to see what Nate would say.

“Damn,” Nate muttered eventually and then dropped his hands onto the table again, almost speechless in his shock. “I’m sorry.”

Andy nodded, and he took a shuddering breath, trying to relax. “They had to have known we were coming. They made us from the moment we walked in.” As Nate processed the story, Andy glanced around like he was in a new world. And in a way, he was.

Everything he saw was sharper. Every noise was louder. Even the slightest of movements made him jump. Nate watched him, concern written all around his dark, weary eyes.

Eventually Andy took another deep breath and leaned back in his chair with an exhausted sigh. “I can't explain it. Everything is… wrong, Nate. With this hunt, the team, everything. It's all too loud, too bright…” He pressed his hands over his eyes for even a moment of relief from the constant flow of information rushing at him at once. “I feel like I'm out of calibration or something. I can smell - hear, other people, their heart beats, their adrenaline…” He moved his hands aside to glance up at Nate again. “ _Everything_.”

Nate managed a half-smile, combing his hair out of his eyes again. “At least take me to dinner first, Stein,” and then wincing he added, “Uh, or not.”

But the joke fell flat between them. Even Nate’s attempt at humor couldn’t pull Andy out of this mess, which didn’t bode well since they both knew his inappropriately timed humor was Nate’s main coping mechanism.

Not to mention his healthiest, by far.

Andy wanted to be able to smile or roll his eyes at his partner like this was just any other hunt, but he couldn’t get past the awful sensation as if his whole body had already begun to decompose. “I feel like there's rot slugging its way through my veins. Like I'm already a corpse, decaying from the inside out.” He brushed one hand up and down his arm as if that would chase away the chill beneath his skin. “I can’t take this much longer.”

“Well, you’ve been like this, alone, for days,” Nate conceded while rubbing at the tense muscles in his neck and mentally kicking himself for not chasing Andy down as soon as he stopped hearing from him.

Shuddering, Andy nodded. “Yeah, I - I got away from Gordon and holed myself up,” Andy muttered quietly and winced as he heard someone arguing out on the street below, “and I planned to stay that way until - I don't know - they caught up to me or something.”

Nate sat forward suddenly, his brow furrowed. “Wait, wait, wait, you had to get away from _Gordon_?”

Andy felt his breath quickening as he remembered showing up at Gordon’s house after the attack, half out of his mind with fear. But Gordon had never been sympathetic towards hunters who had been turned before. Andy should’ve known that. Only, he thought, after everything he and Gordon had been through, surely... “He - he tried to kill me. The moment he found me after it all went to hell, he just - attacked! And he told the others to do the same, that I was nothing more than a dirty fang now, like I was one of them!”

The more he spoke, the more his fear turned to rage, burning in his chest as he remembered being chased from Gordon’s house like an animal, just another dirty killer.

“But you haven’t hurt anyone,” Nate ventured, trying to search Andy’s eyes.

“Of course I didn’t hurt anyone,” Andy shouted as he slammed one hand onto the table and glared across at Nate who tried not to flinch.

He sat back slowly, raising his hands a little. “Okay, okay - dude, I believe you. I'm just trying to make sense of it all.” That calmed Andy down a little, and that increasingly familiar emptiness entered his eyes again, like he wasn’t all there. Nate felt sick. They’d been through a lot together, but never anything that had left Andy looking so hopeless.

Being hopeless and edgy was Nate’s job. Andy was always the one with the undying smile and optimism, at least until now. Nate cleared his throat. “Isn't there a cure?”

Andy cackled, humorless and dry. Then, throwing his hands into the air, he shook his head. “A cure? For turning into a vampire? Sure, it’s in the back of my car right next to the unicorn blood, Nate.”

“Hey, it’s just an infection,” Nate insisted as he leaned forward again. His mind started racing in hopes of some place to start searching. “You haven't fully transformed yet! Maybe there's something!”

Something different appeared in Andy’s eyes then. Pity - and it wasn’t for himself either. He pitied Nate. “You've got the top vampire experts all in this city right now. If a cure existed, they would know it.”

“That doesn’t mean they would use it,” Nate answered quietly, more to himself than to Andy. The whole room seemed darker then, colder, as he thought back to Gordon and the other hunters sitting around a table at that bar celebrating while Andy was cowering in a disgusting motel room waiting to be hunted down and killed like an animal.

But Andy drew back, forehead wrinkling. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Man, you just said Gordon tried to off you first chance he got,” Nate said defensively, nose wrinkling. “These are hunters, Andy. Yeah, they may be a few clowns short of a full coop, but these guys have been hacking and slicing at fangs longer than we've been alive.” Nate drew one of the notebooks from his bag and began flipping through to see if he’d ever written down anything about vampirism, not that it was likely. “If Gordon has a cure, I don't think he'd share. Dude gets his high off this stuff.”

Andy stood quickly, towering over Nate who put his hands up again. “What the hell does that mean? What are you saying? Gordon Walker is a good man!”

“Hey, alright, so he's a good man,” Nate conceded gently in hopes of easing some of the fire in Andy’s eyes, the shaking in his curled, claw-like hands. “I'm sure he goes to church every Sunday, too. But Andy - you didn't see him in that bar like I did, swapping beers and stories with his buddies over endless nachos like they've already won the war.”

Nate swallowed as Andy’s eyes widened, and even though Nate didn’t want to give Andy one more reason to lose hope, he didn’t want to lie to him either. “They were planning their counter strike, not exactly burying the dead.”

Scoffing, Andy turned and paced away from the table. “I don't believe this. I don't believe you!” He turned back to Nate, his muscles wound tight enough to snap. “Did you really come all this way just to tear down the man I look up to?”

“The man you just said tried to kill you? And tried to get his buddies in on it too? And you’re defending him?” Nate shouted back as his hands curled up into fists on top of the table. Did Andy really value his own life so little? “I came here to _save_ you!"

“I’m a monster!” Andy screamed, his voice torn and ragged.

Nate finally got to his feet and crossed the room to Andy, giving him no room to run or back away. “Like hell you are! You’re Andy Stein, the guy who watches _My Little Pony_ and plays Christmas carols on the mandolin and dreams of being on Family Feud one day!”

He leaned closer as Andy looked away, trying to hold his gaze. “You're sick, that's all this is! There's a cure, Andy, there has to be.” Nate backed up a step, just enough to get out of Andy’s face, to give him some room to breathe. “I'm going to find it, and you're going to take it, and we'll put this whole mess behind us and - and - I don’t know - head for the beach or something!”

Glaring and still looming over Nate, Andy stepped forward where Nate had stepped back. “And that’s just your decision to make, is it?”

“Yes it is! Because even when I wanted to put a bullet in my brain because of those ghosts, or when I couldn't sleep or keep food down or even _breathe_ , you _never_ let up!” Nate ground his teeth together as he stared Andy down and refused to look away. “Sure, it wasn't a picnic for either of us, but you were always there to shove food my way or coffee or water or, hell, just keep the other two off my back!”

It was Andy who backed down first, turning his head away.

“You kept me alive,” Nate told him, softer now, “when nobody else cared, least of all myself. So if you want to die, or if someone else wants to kill you, they’re going to have to go through me first. Because it's my job to protect you, and by God, I'm going to do it.”

Andy stared at him again, watched his eyes, and listened to the beating of his heart - steady and sincere. He couldn’t help but smirk. “Damn Smith stubbornness.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say," Nate said with a shrug, "friendship really _is_ magic."

Andy rolled his eyes as his smirk spread into a wider smile. “Oh, great. Exactly what I-”

Without warning, the door behind them was kicked open, and a figure fired a shotgun at Andy who narrowly dodged, dragging Nate to the ground, covering him. The spread of buckshot shattered the one lamp that was lit and plunged the room into darkness. Only a faint light came from the hallway behind the figure, but it cast their face in shadow.

He'd been too distracted arguing with Nate to hear them approach, but the advantage of surprise or not, Andy was going to rip their throat out. So, he lunged forward, and Nate grabbed at his arm to stop him, sensing those brand-new killer instincts kicking in. “Andy, no!”

But he shook Nate off, charged for the figure - who fired again - and Andy grabbed at them, throwing them against the wall. With one strong pull, he snatched the shotgun from the person’s hands and threw it to the floor before pinning them to the wall and punching them hard across the jaw several times.

“Andy - Andy stop!” Nate scrambled for the light, snatching his pistol off the bed before he reached the switch. He turned back to the figure Andy had pinned and froze as the overhead light flickered on.

Nate’s blood ran cold.

Andy held the intruder by the throat, their feet dangling off the floor.

“Did Gordon send you?” Andy demanded, getting in the man’s face. “You another lackey of his?”

“Andy,” Nate choked. “Andy - let him go.” He tugged numbly at Andy’s shoulder until he slowly lowered the other man back to the floor.

“Who is this?” Andy asked while he and the intruder swapped appraising glares.

But Nate just stared. “He’s my dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll see you on Monday :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John, of course, is played by Jeffrey Dean Morgan, and can best be seen in s1 e20, "Dead Man's Blood," which is also a great reference for vampires in this series. I've linked a couple videos of him in the chapter :)
> 
> Enjoy! You're gonna hate him.
> 
> Warnings for parent on child abuse.

[John [1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KycWEtzBMH8), [2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYEfWZDhmYE)]

Las Vegas, Nevada  
May, 2011

Andy took a step back from John, stunned. He’d heard stories. Everyone had, but it was another thing seeing the man behind them. John was middle-aged, muscular. He kept his brown hair short, and his eyes were sharp, chin scratchy with unchecked stubble. But Andy couldn’t see hardly any of Nate in him.

Aside from the attitude.

Because John made a point of sizing Andy up in a way that let Andy know exactly what John thought of him, the value he put on Andrew Stein’s life. The older man’s gaze lingered on the dried blood on his throat. Then meeting Andy’s gaze, John rested a hand on the hilt of the machete at his hip.

Meanwhile, Nate backed towards the door and checked the hallway, just to make sure that no one else was planning to pay them a visit, before he shut the door and locked it again. Considering he was positive he’d locked it when they came in, Nate wondered just how much his father had heard of their conversation as he stood outside picking the lock. They hadn’t exactly been whispering. Brushing the thought aside, Nate tucked his gun into the waistband of his pants and turned to see John walk in a slow semicircle around Andy.

He had a hundred other, more important things to worry about in that moment.

“So, you’re my boy’s new partner?” John asked, but Andy kept his jaw clenched tight. Nodding to himself, John turned to survey the rest of the room. “Nice place.”

Nate moved to stand by Andy’s side, and Andy could sense the panic rolling off of his partner in waves. He could hear Nate’s heart pounding, his breathing quicken and turn shallow, all signs he was expecting a fight. Andy tried to catch his eyes, to get a read on what Nate was thinking. But Nate kept his gaze locked on John, his expression hidden behind his hair.

“This is what all that training went into, did it, Nathan? For you to shack up with a turned?” John asked as he looked back at the two of them. That’s all he saw Andy for, the bad blood in his veins.

“Andy's my partner,” Nate answered in a level, clipped tone that Andy had never heard him use before. Then again, nothing about Nate seemed familiar at that moment. “I'm sticking with him until I track down the cure.”

Except that.

“Cure?” John scoffed. “What cure? For being _turned_?” It turned Andy’s stomach to think he’d reacted in a similar way earlier.

Nate’s spine was rigid as he stole quick glances up at his father’s face. “It has to exist. People have been hunting fangs for a thousand years. Someone, somewhere has to have developed it.”

Chuckling, John continued sauntering around the room like it belonged to him, and as far as he was concerned, it did. He checked out the window and rolled his eyes. “Well, you always did have a tendency to believe things that weren't real.” Andy looked to Nate who had momentarily stopped breathing. John sighed. “I figured running out on me to chase down fairy tales for six years would have woken you up a little.” John glared back at his son, looking him up and down. “Guess not.”

Nate finally took a breath when John looked away again, and Andy shook with the effort to hold his anger back. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?” John shut the curtains over the window. “I heard some hunters got into trouble with the nest, so I came to see if there was anything I could do to... _help._ ”

Help relieve him of his head - Andy thought.

He bristled at the growing contempt in John’s eyes, but Nate grabbed his arm. He pulled Andy back. Then, with a deep breath, Nate put himself between Andy and John as his dad studied him like some lab rat.

John smiled, but it did nothing to ease Nate’s already frazzled nerves. “You look good, Nathan. You do. Glad to see the road didn't completely devour you. Put on a little weight though, but with your eating habits I’m not surprised.” John gestured at his head. “Could also go for a haircut.”

Still trembling slightly, Nate let out the breath he’d been holding. “Yes, sir.”

Slowly John nodded before turning his sights on Andy again. “And you?”

“Me what?” Andy snapped and couldn’t help but notice the way it made Nate flinch.

“You better watch your tone with me,” John snapped back and pointed a finger towards Andy. “I have every instinct in my body right now telling me that your head should be rolling.”

Nate winced again. “Dad…”

“No, go ahead,” Andy muttered, his eyes glaring daggers at the older hunter. “I've been waiting a long time to meet the famous John Smith. The guy who would raise the next one-man army instead of a son.”

John snorted. “Is that what Nathan’s told you about me?”

It felt like someone was standing on Nate’s throat as he pleaded, “Guys-”

“Don’t interrupt me, boy!” John shouted over him.

Nate grit his teeth. “Well maybe don't threaten to kill my best friend!”

“He’s hardly your friend anymore.”

Andy took a few steps towards John. “Hey, maybe _you_ should watch _your_ mouth!” But Nate put up an arm to hold him back. God, he couldn’t let them kill each other.

“He's my partner, Dad,” Nate shouted. Because if John was going to focus his anger on someone, it might as well be Nate. “And I always look after my partner! Whether you like it or not!”

It had the effect he’d intended, but that didn’t ease the feeling of the floor falling out from under him or the icy splash of water running through his veins.

John went stiff, and with a voice low but frighteningly calm, he demanded, “Nathan, come here.”

Nate glared at him a moment but dropped his head and obeyed, walking over. He stood in front of John, his eyes burning holes into the floor. And John ground his teeth. “Look at me.”

Hesitantly, Nate looked up, and John struck him suddenly across the face before grabbing the pistol from Nate’s waistband and aiming it at Andy, who hissed at John, fangs bared, eyes wild and flooded with red veins.

“No! No - Andy stop!” Nate begged, holding up one hand to stop Andy while the other grasped at his throbbing face.

“Hey!” John commanded him again. “Look at me!”

And slowly Nate straightened and turned back to his father, shaking again, his bangs flopped wildly around his face, one hand gripping his cheek. John regarded him coldly. “Don't you ever lie to me about how you can manage or treat your partner again, do you understand me?”

Nate glared at him, his jaw clenched tight, and he nodded. But that wasn’t enough. Wordlessly, John cocked the gun he’d taken, the one still aimed at Andy’s head.

So Nate hissed, “Yes, sir,” through his teeth, blood hammering in his ears.

John’s gaze moved back to Andy as he slowly dropped the gun to his side, put the safety on, and tucked it into his own belt. Then, shoving past the two boys, he headed for the door and muttered, “I'll be back. You two better be here when I am.”

The door slammed closed behind him.

Andy looked to Nate, to check to make sure he was okay, to ask for some kind of explanation for what just happened, anything, but Nate wouldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he dropped his head, cleaned his things off the bed they’d been laying on, and moved them to the other one instead. His lip was bleeding, making the quivering that much more obvious.

“Nate…”

He didn’t raise his head to answer, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Andy picked the shotgun up off the floor and tossed it onto the empty bed. “If he does it again, I’m going to kill him. Don’t care what it does to me.”

Nate swallowed the lump in his throat, took a shaking breath, and dropped into his seat at the table. He couldn’t fall apart. He wouldn’t. He didn’t have time.

An hour later, John sat on the bed that Nate had cleared off, his weapons laid out across it in sharp detail as he cleaned them beneath the migraine-inducing light. Andy rubbed at his sweat slicked forehead, and everything in him begged to switch the light off. But he wouldn’t make a move from his seat in the corner.

Nate sat at the little table still, his brow wrinkled up and his face lit by the screen of his laptop. He pointedly ignored John’s not so subtle efforts at intimidation. If he kept going much longer without his glasses Andy wouldn’t be the only one with a migraine, but Nate wasn’t about to leave Andy, or John, or them together, to hike back across town and get them.

“So, son,” John asked as he set another wickedly sharp knife back onto the bed and looked up at Andy, “which one of us did you want to take off your head?”

Nate’s gaze shot up from his laptop, but Andy just took a deep breath through his nose, smelling John’s sweat and the stale odor of beer, before answering, “No one is going to take my head, thank you.” His hands curled on the armrests of the chair, white knuckle stiff.

John scoffed and pulled the pistol from his belt, checking to see it was actually clean. So his son hadn’t forgotten everything he’d taught him. “Based on what?” He glanced towards Nate who was again pointedly ignoring the conversation. “Nathan over there? That’s rich.”

Finally, Nate sat up. He’d been provoked long enough, and he could tell John wasn’t going to stop until he got a reaction. “What does that mean?”

Nodding towards the laptop, John set the pistol down. “You sure are looking hard for that imaginary cure of yours. Why not just tell your friend here the truth and end his suffering now?” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “That seems to be your track record in the past.”

Andy’s attention turned to Nate who stared at his father, not in anger, but in confusion. “I’m…” He looked down at the laptop screen, anxiety eating away at his gut. “... researching. It's not like there's a Library of Congress for hunting materials out there we can just call up. Much less anything like that within a hundred miles.”

“No, but you've got all the top vampire hunters right here in this city, and you're not bothering to go to any of them?” John asked, rising from his place on the bed and stalking around the room again. The more he moved, the more nervous Andy got, feeling like a mouse trapped in a cage with a hungry cat, but he stayed still, only moving to lean his head into one hand.

“They tried to kill Andy, they tried to kill me!” Nate snapped and dropped his gaze again when John’s head turned to glare at him. He lowered his voice, drawing on what little self-control he had left underneath the mountain of exhaustion. “What incentive would those guys have to develop a cure, much less share it with us?”

John crossed his arms over his chest, standing blatantly between Andy and Nate. “And what incentive would whoever did develop it have to post it all over the internet?”

Rubbing the side of his face that was still a little tender, Nate sighed, “Maybe because I still believe people can be good hunters _and_ good people.”

“Hey, watch your tone with me, boy. You've done nothing but disrespect me since I got here, and I've had about enough of it.” John paced to the table, leaning his knuckles against the wood and looming over Nate who peered up at him warily.

Andy twitched, coming to attention the closer John got to Nate.

Softer, more to himself than his son - and had Andy’s hearing not been jacked up to a hundred, he wouldn’t have heard it at all - John muttered, “Part of me hoped you'd outgrow this bad attitude of yours.”

Nate gripped his hands into fists beneath the table where they rested on the knees of his jeans. “No one is beheading my best friend, alright? Not you, not Gordon, not anyone. So all I can do is find the cure.”

Suddenly John’s expression changed from a general distaste and disappointment to something almost like worry, if Nate thought that was possible. He searched his father’s eyes. “What? What is it?”

“Gordon?” John asked. “That wouldn’t happen to be Gordon Walker, would it?”

Nate and Andy swapped a look around John before Nate turned to stare up at his dad again. “Yeah. He led the raid on the nest, and tried to kill Andy afterwards.”

Without so much as glancing over his shoulder, John asked Andy, “You know Gordon?”

“He taught me everything I know,” Andy answered tersely. He wasn’t sure what other answer that question dignified.

His eyes flashing back and forth, John scratched at his short beard before he nodded in thought. He crossed the room in two quick strides, and both boys jumped at the sudden movement. John grabbed his bag and started loading it with a few of the weapons from the bed.

Nate gripped the arms of his chair. “Where are you going?”

“If Gordon has marked you for death,” John said as he cast one short glance in Andy’s direction, “you should leave the city. The nest won't distract him forever, and he won't stop until he kills you himself.”

Frowning deeper, Nate’s gaze bounced back and forth between the two of them. “Dad, Gordon’s a hunter.”

“No, Nathan, Gordon's a sociopath with a personal vendetta against vampires and everything they touch, and no regard for the kids he teaches,” he said as he zipped up his bag and slung it onto his shoulder. “That explains why no one knows how many actually got killed. I bet you it was all kids that went in first and nobody bothered to count.”

Andy bristled in the corner, wanting to defend his mentor, but the more he thought about it, John wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, pretty much.” Miles, Shiv, even Max and Erma were only a few years older than him. “Guess we were just cannon fodder.”

“I told you, he wasn’t exactly crying a river,” Nate muttered as he looked back at his laptop and started scrolling again.

“You met him?” John asked Nate in a tone that told Nate his dad was not going to like the answer.

“Yeah,” Nate said and glanced up slowly, “he was the first person I went to when I tried to find Andy.”

John hissed through his teeth and shook his head towards the floor as if he couldn’t believe his son would do something so stupid. “Damnit, Nathan! That means he knows you're here, and that you're with _him_!” he shouted, jutting a finger towards Andy. “You're as marked as he is now!”

Still dripping sarcasm, Andy rolled his eyes and muttered, “Well it's not like you're going to let him hurt your only son.”

“Oh, my _only son_ has made it quite clear that he doesn't want my help anymore,” John said flatly and checked the gun that was holstered at his hip like he was expecting some kind of fight.

Nate just shook his head and rolled his eyes down at the keyboard of his laptop. His cheeks stung, and he still struggled to breathe. But making an argument for himself either way was only going to egg them on. And Nate didn’t want Andy starting a fight when his dad was so heavily armed.

John adjusted the pack on his shoulder and swept his gaze over both of them. “Leave town, now, both of you. That's my only warning.”

“Your only warning?” Andy snapped as he finally stood from his chair, and Nate watched him closely, ready to jump in. “What, are you with Gordon now?”

“I came here to support my fellow hunters,” John reminded him, “not to _babysit_ a couple of helpless dreamers.” John started for the door, his hand resting on the knob. “I have no plans to turn on them, so I honestly hope neither of you are betting on that to save you. So yes, this is my only warning. Leave, now.” Then he looked to Nate again, his eyes narrowing. “Nathan.”

Nate bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Sir?”

John’s voice was low, measured, but underneath the calm facade, Nate could see about six years - maybe more - worth of resentment boiling. “You and I are due a conversation. One that we _will have_ now that I know you're still alive. Am I clear?”

Anxiety took another stab at Nate’s stomach, but he managed to nod his head and answer, “Yes, sir,” before John tore open the door and left.

A few moments of tense silence passed as Andy listened to the sound of John’s footsteps retreating down the hallway, until he was finally out of earshot. Then he turned to Nate. His partner fumed at his laptop a moment more before slamming it closed and getting up to pack.

Andy nodded his head toward the door. “So, that's the legendary John Smith.”

“Mh-hmm,” Nate answered while continuing to gather his things.

“No offense, but your old man is kind of a douche.”

Nate didn’t even look up. He only replied automatically, almost inaudibly, “He’s a good hunter.” Hunters saved lives, whether they were a little rough around the edges or not, and that had to count for something. It had to, Nate assured himself. His dad saved lives. So what if he knocked his kid around a little?

Andy watched Nate slip his laptop into his backpack, noting the way that Nate’s hands shook even if Nate himself didn’t seem to notice. Then he cleared his throat. “That’s the same thing you said about Gordon.”

Nate frowned down at his bag, at the meager collection of supplies and glanced back towards the bed where John had left the pistol. “No, I said Gordon _was_ a good man, past tense. He's still a good hunter, even if he's a little screwed in the head.”

“And was your dad ever a good man?” Andy asked as he continued to watch his partner closely. All the time they’d worked together, all the crap they’d been through, all the demons clawing at Nate’s mind, he’d never seen Nate shaken like this.

Never seen him retreat so far inside himself.

Nate glared up at him briefly but didn’t bother to answer. He wasn’t sure he knew the answer, to be honest. So, it was best not to think about it.

“You think it’s even possible?” Andy asked, looking down at the lines of dried blood on his hands and underneath his fingernails. “To be both?”

Finally Nate paused in his packing and looked up at Andy. It took him a moment, but he shrugged slightly, his eyes tired and dry. “I think that you are. I try to be.” He tightened his grip on his backpack. “We can’t be the only ones, right?”

Andy nodded a little as his head pulsed with the aching flow of information. Then, looking back to Nate, Andy straightened his shoulders as much as he could manage. “I’m not leaving, Nate. Not with you.”

But without even missing a beat, Nate answered, “Yeah, you are.” He certainly wasn’t leaving without Andy, not if he ever wanted to live with himself afterwards.

“No, I'm not!” Andy insisted and took a few steps back from Nate as he turned away, leaning against one wall. “I can't trust myself around you, or especially around Douche Senior! I almost ripped his throat out as it is.” It was hard enough ignoring the urge to sink his teeth in something or someone, and John Smith's A+ parenting certainly didn’t help.

“Well, he did shoot at you,” Nate said and gave a very pathetic attempt at a smirk, especially with his bleeding lip.

“Nate, I’m being serious!”

Nate threw his bag down onto the bed. “So am I!” Between his dad hitting him five minutes after reappearing in his life and his best friend’s sudden lack of self-preservation, Nate felt like he was going to snap in two. “I'm finding a cure, and I'm turning you back! And I'm not letting anyone hurt you!”

He just couldn’t - not Andy.

“And what if you can’t?” Andy let his head fall back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. “What if he's right, and there is no cure? What if you never find it?”

Finally managing a real smirk, Nate answered, “Well, not with that attitude, I won’t.” Andy left him to his packing then, and once he was done, Nate pointed to his friend, “No running out on me, okay? I’ve got to make a call, and then we’re leaving, _together_.”

“Where am I going to go?” Andy asked, unable to put up any kind of protest. “Half the country wants me dead.”

“Right,” Nate said and backed towards the door before slipping out into the hallway and scrolling through his short list of contacts. He dialed, pressed the phone to his ear, and tried to put together a casual facade in the time it took for Ro to answer the phone.

_“Nate?”_

“Hey, Ro.” Nate shut his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

Her voice was chipper as ever, overly friendly, and frankly, a relief from his previous company. _“Hey, how are you? How's Vegas? Oh, how's your friend?”_

Nate’s stomach sank sharply. “Umm, listen Ro, I need some help.”

“ _Sure, honey. What do you need?_ ”

He squirmed a little and plucked at the hem of his t-shirt. He must sound pathetic if Ro was already offering him help without demanding further explanation. “What do you know about people who're infected with vampire blood?”

Ro froze suddenly, her smile falling, and then she darted for the back of the Roadhouse where things were quieter. She lowered her voice as she asked, “Nate, are you okay?”

“Yeah, Ro, I’m fine, I just…” Nate squeezed his eyes shut. It was safer not to tell her everything, as much as he wanted someone on his side right about now. “Just tell me what you know, if anything.”

Ro twisted a finger through her golden brown hair as she thought back to what she could remember. “Well, the stories are that if someone is injected with or ingests vampire blood, they'll start to turn, and then will turn fully if they ingest human blood, too.”

Nate took a deep breath, waiting for her to say more, but she didn’t. He blinked up at the brown-stained ceiling above him. “Is that it?”

“What do you mean ‘is that it’? Hun, that’s the stories I’ve heard, of course that’s all I know!” Ro pinched the bridge of her nose. She could only imagine a few scenarios where Nate would need to know these things, and none of them were good.

Chewing his bottom lip, Nate finally worked up the courage to ask his other question. “Okay, well, have you ever heard of a cure?”

Ro blinked and tilted her head to the side, hair falling over one shoulder. “A cure? Well, no, but... Jimmy!” She poked her head back into the main room of the Roadhouse. “Jimmy! Have you-”

Nate bolted off the wall, one fist raised above his head as his eyes blew open wide. “No! No, Ro, hush!” he hissed at her.

“ _Why? What's wrong?_ ”

“Just,” Nate shut his eyes again, resting his fist on top of his head, “don't spread this around, alright? Look, do you know anything or not?” The last thing - the absolute last thing - he needed was more hunters getting involved in this.

“ _Well I don't know, honey, I'm not a hunter!_ ”

Of course she wasn’t, because if she was, she’d tell Nate the same thing Andy and John had - it didn’t exist. Nate rubbed his eyes. “Thanks, Ro. Just - ask around for me, okay? But keep it quiet, if you can. I don't want this advertised, especially with the other talk going around. Okay? Ro!”

Nate looked down at his phone, but the call had dropped. He sighed and turned back towards the room, but as he stepped inside, someone grabbed him from behind and forced him up against the wall. “What the-!” he gasped before the person pinning him down leaned into him.

Cold fingers smoothed through Nate’s dark hair while the other hand had a firm grip on his right arm, twisting it behind Nate’s back. “Shh, don’t make a fuss.” The attacker twisted further at that right arm, and Nate hissed, his shoulder pressed into the drywall. “No need for anyone else to get hurt, hunter. Just tell us where your buddies are.”

Nate got one quick glimpse over his shoulder only to see that the window was open and the room was chock full of vampires, and best of all, Andy was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for blood and a little bodily harm this chapter. But come on, you expect that by now, right? (Even if it's nothing worse than you'd see on any local station drama these days)

Las Vegas, Nevada  
May, 2011

Nate focused his energy on not panicking first, which was difficult considering the situation was, in a word, bad. No back-up, no immediate means of escape, and several fangs licking their lips as they surrounded him. To these monsters he was all but a juicy rotisserie chicken, pinned down and defenseless.

With the vampire leaning his weight against him, Nate shifted as much as he could, trying to get even the slightest amount of wiggle room in order to free himself, but the hold on his arm was tight as a vice. He wasn’t going anywhere. Stealing another glance over his shoulder, he tried to see if there were any signs to where Andy had gone.

He wouldn’t just run out on him, would he?

The vampire cut off Nate’s view by leaning his head to the side, a sheet of dark hair sweeping over one shoulder. “Nah-uh-uh, no peeking. Just start talking.” He twisted Nate’s arm harder until Nate had to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out.

Play dumb, his brain screamed at him. And Nate spat, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He was already gasping for breath, his hair flung wildly into his eyes. Where was Andy? Where was his dad? And how many more fangs were there? At least a few, too many for him to fight off by himself. His only choice was to buy time. “I don’t know what you want! Just let me go!”

Pressing closer, his lips brushing Nate’s ear, the man whispered, “You know I can tell when you're lying, right?” He wrenched suddenly and quickly at Nate’s arm, dislocating it from the shoulder in one swift motion. The pain was blinding, a flash of raw nerves that encompassed half his body. And this time Nate could not suppress his scream, but the man spun him around and pressed one hand over his mouth to stifle his cries. “I told you to keep quiet! Now, will you answer honestly, or do we keep going?”

Nate stared at the man with wide, fearful eyes. He had dark hair, bright green eyes rimmed with red veins, and a smile like a predator with its prey trapped in its claws. A little dazed from the pain, Nate made a whimpering noise in the back of his throat and slowly nodded. With a triumphant smirk, the man pulled his hand away.

But just as soon as he had, Nate head-butted him and kicked him back, throwing the man off of him long enough for Nate to get one big breath of air and scream, “Dad! Dad - help!”

Growling, the man slapped Nate hard enough to rattle his brain around, hard enough to shut him up, too. For a moment, Nate couldn't see straight, and worse, he couldn't run. Then the fang's claw-like hands were curled around his throat, and the monster forced him up the wall, dangling him a few inches off the ground. Struggling madly, Nate kicked helplessly just above the floor and pried at the man’s fingers with his one good hand.

His eyes fully red with blood, the vampire bared his fangs at Nate. “You shouldn’t have done that!” He lunged for Nate’s throat and sank his teeth in deep, drinking.

The scent of his own blood hit Nate’s nose, and a chill wracked his body and turned his thoughts sluggish and scattered. He had just enough sense to grab at the vampire’s throat, to try to push back. But his strength quickly drained away as his limbs turned cold, his head feeling like it was floating away as lead encased his feet. The awful, wet slurping, sucking noises coming from his neck were muffled only by the roar of his blood in his own ears as everything grew white and hazy, his senses muffled by a layer of soft and dulling cotton.

He was going to die. He could feel himself dying, alone and helpless and scared.

Nate thought he heard something, a word, “Incoming!” Then the mouth at his neck drew away suddenly with a wet _pop_.

A moment later, the door beside Nate burst open in a shower of splinters. John Smith appeared in the opening with his Taurus aimed at the first fang he saw, the one holding his son. He fired and shot the vampire right between the eyes. It didn’t kill him, but it was enough to make him stagger back a few steps, dropping Nate, who fell limp to the ground. With a shallow gasp of pain, Nate toppled sideways, no strength to catch himself or even attempt to get up. Instead, he gasped for air and fumbled with numb fingers to staunch the blood flowing from his neck. John drew his machete.

From the open window, Andy exploded into the room, his blade already drawn and swinging. His gaze was set on his partner and the path he’d cut to get to him.

Heads started to roll.

But in the fray, the male vampire, his fangs still wet with Nate’s blood, knocked John off of his feet with a sweeping kick. He loomed over the hunter and dipped his head towards his throat, but Nate grabbed the fang around the legs, drew the hunting knife from his belt, and stabbed at whatever he could reach. A screech of pain let him know he'd hit his target.

Turning clumsily with the arms wrapped around his legs, the fang kicked Nate off of him, slamming him against the nearest wall, and - laughing at Nate's pitiful efforts to escape - kicked a few more times at Nate's exposed chest for good measure. Nate was caught, his good arm pinned beneath him, only able to gasp and grunt as he was assaulted.

“Nathan!” John leapt back to his feet, swinging wild and hard, and the vampire’s head hit the floor.

The female vampire, the one that had alerted the others, froze from where she had Andy pinned to one wall when her mate’s head rolled to a stop beside her foot. “No!” She dropped Andy and flew to her mate’s side, but John beheaded her the moment she came within arm’s length.

Catching his breath, Andy sprang at the remaining two vampires, and in a few seconds, he and John finished them off. Once they were sure they were all dead, Andy glanced up at John, still a little shaken up. “Thanks for coming.”

John nodded. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

Behind them on the floor, Nate sat up against the wall, cradling his busted shoulder as he hissed through his teeth, panting, “Oh, you two are breaking my heart over here…”

John moved to Nate’s side then, checking him over quickly and pressing a large hand over the bleeding wound in Nate’s neck. Nate shivered, unaware of how often he was blinking to try to clear his vision. Everything seemed to be swimming around in murky water, and he couldn't stop his head from listing to either side. Still gripping his machete tight, Andy glanced around before going back to the window and staring outside. His vision narrowed again, his head getting a little fuzzy.

More vampires were on the way.

Behind him, John helped Nate to sit up a little straighter while pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket to stop the bleeding. Nate groaned a little, wheezing around the pressure on his throat and the pain, and he wouldn’t let go of his throbbing shoulder.

He had to get up. He had to keep moving, or he was going to… going to...

“Take it easy, son, take it easy,” John coached him as his eyes continued to scan for other injuries.

“You’re the one that moved me,” Nate whined like he was nine years-old again with a twisted ankle from falling out of a tree.

“There’s more coming,” Andy told them from the window.

John blinked up at him. “How many?”

“I don’t know,” Andy tore his gaze from the window, “but a lot.”

Muttering a few choice swear words beneath his breath, John turned back to Nate and made a few quick decisions. He gathered his Taurus and his machete from the floor, slipping them into their places on his belt. Again, he sat Nate up a little more, his hands closing around Nate’s injured arm.

“Wait, wait,” Nate cried, “what’re you-”

His words dissolved into a sharp scream as John forced the shoulder back into place without so much as a warning, and before Nate even had time to recover, he dragged him to his feet. It was all Nate could do not to vomit. Andy rushed over, either to help or protect Nate, he wasn’t sure, but John pushed him back towards the beds a step, barking, “Get his things. We’re leaving.”

Andy nodded and grabbed both Nate’s backpack and his duffel from the other bed. He threw another glance towards the window as John put Nate’s good arm around his shoulders and turned for the door. Nate panted heavily, his face pale, a shade closer to green than normal.

The front of his shirt was soaked in his own blood by then, the handkerchief dangling from limp fingers.

John paused in the doorway and looked back at Andy. “Now!”

But Andy’s eyes were far away, somewhere out the window. “I could hold them off-”

“And get ripped to pieces? Let’s go,” John shouted, and even through the haze, Nate could tell he wasn’t going to wait much longer.

“You won’t be able to outrun them,” Andy muttered, visions of the nightclub flashing through his mind. “Not carrying Nate.”

John started out the door, dragging Nate along with him whose feet shuffled uselessly over the floor. No, they couldn’t leave Andy - Nate grabbed for the doorframe to stop his dad, but John kept moving, shouting, “I said we’re leaving! Now!”

“No...” Nate whimpered, unheard.

But Andy kept looking back towards the window, his mind made up. Glancing back and forth between them and the alley below, Andy shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I-”

Nate’s voice snapped in the air between them, louder than Andy would’ve expected with how bad he looked: “Andrew Stein if you go back out that window, so help me _God_ I will shoot my old man right here right now and follow you out there myself even if it _kills me_!” Though even the effort of the words themselves sent Nate back to gasping for every breath.

Stunned, Andy blinked at him and even John froze. Nate was livid. Beyond anything Andy had ever seen before, those dark eyes so full of bitter determination that he believed that his partner would throw himself out a window after him even then. So Andy nodded and scooped the bags up onto his shoulder. Then hurrying over, he carefully took Nate from John.

“I’ve got him.”

John set his jaw but didn’t put up a fight. If this was what it took to get these two idiots out of here, he’d abide it. “Be careful, stay close.” Then to Nate, “You got a car?”

“Right pocket,” Nate gulped, feeling his stomach starting to churn worse and worse inside of him. His head pounded, and he made a note that shouting while bleeding out was not a great idea.

John fished out the keys, led them both out into the filthy hallway with its sputtering lights that cast their faces in twisting shadows, and he drew his machete again as he shut the door behind them. The coast seemingly clear, they scrambled for the exit, but as they reached the elevator doors, Andy froze suddenly. “They’re in the elevators.”

John didn't ask how he knew. He only pushed Andy in the other direction, pointed to a door with an emergency light over it that was busted out, and barked, “Stairs. Now.” They ducked that way as John backed after them, reloading his shotgun as he walked. While Andy worked the door to the stairwell open, two more vampires emerged from the elevator, looking around for them.

With no time to waste, the three hunters burst into the cramped stairwell as close to a full sprint as Nate could manage. But there the lights were brighter than the ones in the hallway, and Andy reeled like he’d been struck in the side of the head, nearly dropping Nate in the process. Cursing again, John caught them both, barely, and struggled to hold Nate up.

“I got it, I got it,” Nate muttered, and nodding, John pressed the shotgun into his hands. Nate held the gun with his good arm and pressed his right arm close to his chest. Refusing to let his partner out of arm's reach, Andy grabbed at him, took a fistful of Nate’s shirt in one hand, and covered his burning eyes with the other. John forced them forward down the stairs.

Tripping and stumbling, they made it down a few flights before Andy caught himself on the railing. Again his head spun like a carousel careening out of control to the tune of carnival music from hell, and he was forced to lean on John to keep from tumbling down the stairs. Finally, he gasped, “They’re coming.”

Above them, the doors to the stairwell burst open with a reverberating _bang_ , and vampires flooded the space.

“Move!” John commanded and shoved at Andy again.

Fueled by adrenaline and muscle memory, Nate leapt down the last few stairs of that flight, his back hitting the wall hard as he turned and fired up at the vampires as they poured in. The sound of the gunshots, multiplied by the echoes off the concrete walls, nearly brought Andy to his knees, and Nate winced. “Sorry!”

But John grabbed at Nate’s shirt, pulling him along. “Just keep going!”

Nate followed as fast as he could, but he was still unsteady on his feet, the world tipping forward and back as he ran. He could see a door ahead of them, but there were suddenly three of them. He looked back and saw the flashing movement of fangs descending the stairs. They were catching up. Nate paused as John and Andy took the door in the middle.

John looked back to see his son hesitating. “Come on!” he commanded.

But Nate shook his head. “You go. I’ll catch up.” Then he darted out of his dad’s reach before John could stop him.

“Nathan!” John almost started after him, but Andy grabbed his arm.

“We have to go!” Andy didn’t want to leave him anymore than John did, but it would take even more time to chase him down and wrestle him into following them. He had to trust Nate knew what he was doing. So John turned, swearing loudly, and pushed himself and Andy out into the bottom floor of the motel.

Finally letting Andy go, John pulled his Taurus from his belt. Without anyone to lean on, Andy staggered a few steps but adjusted to the light quickly. They had to keep moving.

Back inside the stairwell, Nate stumbled around the bottom floor, searching for something that he couldn’t find - where was it, where was it, where was it - so he went back up a level as a vampire jumped down from the landing above, dropping onto the stairs behind Nate. He roared, fangs spewing thick saliva like something right out of an 80’s horror movie.

Bewildered, Nate aimed the shotgun at the vampire’s groin and fired, and the fang dropped to his knees. Nate flipped the now empty gun around in his hands and cracked the butt of it across the creature’s head, and it knocked the monster out cold, though Nate heard an unfortunate snapping sound. The gun was busted. But by then other fangs were flooding the space around him, swiping at him and taunting, playing with their food.

“Lookie here, boys, a rat caught in a trap!”

“I bet he tastes like a dog, though.”

Rude, Nate thought vaguely.

Blinking as he tried to keep them from multiplying before his eyes, he sneered, “Hey, how about you bite me?”

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to say, but hey, he was dying. He figured he deserved a little slack. The next moment one of the vampires lunged for him. Stumbling back and falling against the wall, Nate finally found what he was looking for, and his hand closed around the latch of the fire alarm with a flood of relief that he wasn't about to die for nothing. He pulled the handle down. And as the alarm blared overhead, every fang in the stairwell dropped to their knees and covered their ears, screaming.

In one last desperate attempt to escape, Nate tripped over the vampire he’d shot and staggered for the door with the glowing “EXIT” sign over it, hoping he had enough blood left in him to make it to the Firebird. As he pushed through the door, the world opened up into a dimly lit parking garage smelling of oil and gasoline and car exhaust. Nate doubled over against the concrete wall. Every breath came as a desperate gasp. He could tell he didn't have long.

His body was shutting down.

“Come on,” Nate groaned, dragging himself one step forward, then another. “Come on!” He straightened as much as he could and limped in what he hoped was the direction of his car with the broken shotgun clutched tight in his pale white hand. The world tipped dangerously all around him, and when he reached the car - hello, beautiful - he collapsed against it and slid to the ground.

Back in the ground floor of the motel, Andy and John looked around in the darkened lobby. A large, empty desk was wedged into one corner, a box set TV sitting on a nearby table with a few old chairs gathered around it. Nothing exciting for sure.

But as they came around the corner from the stairwell, Andy stopped and grabbed John, pulling him back as a group of vampires emerged from behind one of the walls. They stood between the hunters and the doors, a wicked grin on each of their faces.

“Well, well, well, a fly in the trap,” a female vampire gasped in feigned surprise and flicked her bright red hair over one shoulder. “Good work, Andy. You lead us right to them.”

Andy shrank back in disgust. “Lead you? I'm trying to kill you!”

The vampire lady stuck out her bottom lip like a pouting toddler, mocking as she continued to chat. “Oh? That's really a shame. We've never had a better spy.” Then her dark eyes flickered to John, and she looked him over hungrily. “Though unfortunately, there's just one measly little hunter? That's all you bring us?”

A spy - so that's why they'd been so determined to turn one of them, and Andy was just the first guinea pig that hadn't gotten its head lobbed off. His grip on the machete in his hand tightened. “I'm not bringing you anything! I'm trying to get away from you!”

“Once again, what you want doesn't matter,” she practically sang, her head tilting back and forth as she did. “You're our pawn now, kid. That's life.”

John wrinkled his nose at them. “Since when did any of you know anything about life?”

She gasped, a manicured hand fluttering up to her chest as if wounded. “That's hurtful! This is the 21st century, you know." She narrowed her eyes. "You should really be more careful with your language.”

“Oh, like how careful you were when you killed my friends?” Andy snapped, his whole body shaking again with the memory of watching them fall, helpless to stop the feeding frenzy. He didn't think he'd ever be able to shut his eyes again without seeing their pale, lifeless faces. That was, if he lived long enough to shut his eyes again.

And Nate, if they didn’t find him again soon, or if he never made it out at all, he’d just be one more added to the population of Andy’s nightmares. The mere thought almost knocked Andy to his knees.

The vampire only rolled her eyes as the others began to move in, to surround the hunters. She seemed almost bored with them, as if she'd wanted dinner and a show. “Hey, you guys came to us. You could even say you… consented to it.”

Andy’s frown deepened as John set his jaw, his patience wearing thin. He drew his Taurus and aimed it at the lead vampire. “You know, in my day, things we were trying to kill weren't so damn chatty.” But they were still outnumbered, and John only had so many bullets left. He'd be lucky to pick off two before the rest were on his neck.

Even with the gun aimed at her, the vampire seemed to think it was more important to inspect her glossy nails as she sighed. “I'm just trying to be civil about this.” Her cold eyes snapped up to them again. “Of course, I could always tell you what I really think before tearing you to bloody ribbons, and slurping them up like wet spaghetti.”

His nose wrinkling up, Andy shook his head and spun the machete in his hand. “Okay, that’s just gross.”

She sighed again and rolled her shoulders. “That’s the point, genius!” The other vampires were poised to strike, waiting on her command which she gave with one flick of her hand, but as they moved at once, the fire alarm sounded overhead. The fangs reacted as if a bomb had gone off in their skulls, and Andy pressed his hands over his ears, too, gasping at the pain in his head.

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, John grabbed the back of Andy’s collar and hauled him towards the exit, swinging his machete at anyone who reached after them along the way. Outside, Andy took a moment to collect his scattered thoughts and senses as John scanned the surrounding area.

“Where’s Nathan?”

That snapped Andy back to attention. If he had to guess, it had been his partner that pulled the fire alarm, which meant he might still be alive somewhere nearby. Andy took a few deep breaths of the dusty night air, looking around them, and suddenly caught Nate’s scent. He pointed John towards the parking garage. They sprinted in that direction, Andy in the lead with his head swiveling, scanning for signs of his friend or the Firebird.

They caught sight of the car first, and Andy could smell Nate, his blood running sluggishly from the open wound on his neck as his heart slowed.

“Nate!” Andy rushed to his side and dropped to his knees, taking Nate’s shoulders in his hands. Something instinctual stirred inside him, and Andy found himself blinking hard at the open wound, grinding his teeth together.

Nate was slumped against the Firebird, the broken shotgun laid across his lap and clutched in one pale, shaking hand. His other hand, curled and lying limp on the ground, was still useless to support the mangled weapon or try to stop the bleeding drenching his shirt. When he looked up at the two of them as they approached, Nate jumped and tried to point the gun at them before he realized groggily who they were.

Then sagging into himself again, he panted, “Took you two… long enough…”

Andy could hear Nate’s unsteady heartbeat, his short and shallow breathing. He looked up at John in a panic, his throat closing up. “He’s going into shock.”

“Let’s get him out of here, quickly.” Stashing his weapons, John hurried to the other side of the car and unlocked it.

Andy helped Nate to his feet, practically supporting all of his friend’s weight against him. John opened the door from the inside, and they worked together to maneuver Nate into the passenger seat and get him buckled in safely. Then Andy looked up at John and held out a hand. “Keys.”

John stared at him for a moment, unsure he wanted to leave his barely-conscious, bleeding son with a turned hunter.

But Andy wasn’t backing down. “Give me the keys! You follow us in your car, or lead the way, whatever! But we need to get him out of here!”

Finally nodding, John handed over the keys and ducked back out of the Firebird. “I know a safe house in the area. Follow me and try to keep up.”

Andy just scoffed and dropped into the driver’s seat, as Nate seemed to stir a little and glanced over at him through hazy eyes and heavy lashes. “You good to drive like this, Evil Knievel?” He blinked, trying to remove the fog over everything he saw, but it was only growing thicker and deeper by the moment. “You crash my car, and we’re going to have problems, Pony.”

Smirking a little at Nate’s eternal concern for his car even in the face of death, Andy turned the key in the ignition and was pleasantly surprised when the Firebird came to life on the first try. Nate smiled, too, reaching out to pat the dash a little with a bloody hand while Andy just winced at the noise.

In the next moment, Nate’s head slumped sideways against the window, his hand dropping to his side, and Andy took a deep breath to calm himself, focused on the sound of Nate’s heartbeat still thrumming in his ears, and started driving.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is what one calls juicy, but probably not for the reasons you think.
> 
> We're half-way through this episode! And boy do we still have some full chapters ahead.

Las Vegas, Nevada   
May, 2011

Andy drove the entire way to the safe house with his hands gripped tight on the wheel and Nate's slumped form in the corner of his vision. As long as he could hear Nate's breathing, he'd be okay. And besides, Andy assured himself multiple times, Nate was too stubborn to bleed out. He'd make it through this, if only so he could continue to annoy the ever-loving snot out of Andrew Stein. That was his job, came practically second nature to him, and he wouldn't give it up for something as boring as being dead. So, Andy drove, following the tail lights of John Smith's truck and trying to ignore the overwhelming smell of blood.

It was still dark, a crescent moon hanging in the sky overhead, when they pulled into the parking lot of the one-story motel, and John jumped out of his truck before Andy even had the chance to cut the Firebird’s engine. Opening the passenger side door, John lifted his unconscious son from the seat. Rather than stop to rent a room for the night, John already had a key for one of the rooms on his keychain, but Nate's lips having gone blue on the ride over, Andy wasn’t going to start asking questions. He just focused on helping John move Nate inside, the younger man’s weight supported between the two of them.

As close as they'd come to killing each other back in the other motel, John and Andy worked quickly and silently once they got inside the room, the pressure of the situation and of keeping Nate alive sweeping away whatever animosity they'd felt earlier. While Andy carefully deposited Nate onto the bed farthest from the door, John sprinted back outside, grabbed a black bag from his truck, and started going through the medical supplies inside. He'd packed to fight vamps, which usually meant bringing a little of everything. All the movement had stirred Nate from his fitful unconsciousness, and he groaned unintelligibly, reaching around like he was trying to find something.

“I'm going to start an IV. You need to stop the bleeding,” John told Andy as he prepped everything with the ease of someone who'd done it before.

Nodding, Andy grabbed some gauze from the black duffel to wrap the wound, but when he turned back to Nate and sat down on the bed beside him, his gaze fixed on the wound and something ugly deep down seemed to stir at the sight. It had been easier in the car, with the roar of the engine, focusing on driving, and the smell of gasoline to distract his painfully heightened senses. Now there was none of that. There was only the sight and smell of blood, and the horrible hunger that caved out Andy's chest like he hadn't eaten in days. He froze. Behind him, John frowned.

“Hey! I gave you an order-”

But Andy stood and backed away, eyes still locked onto the wound, tripping over his own feet as he put some distance between himself and Nate. The hunger brought more memories bubbling to the surface of his mind, memories he'd pushed down so deep in the week he'd been alone and hiding and scared of what he would do. What he would become. Now they were threatening to pull him under just like they had before when he'd almost hurt Nate again, but he didn’t have time. He didn’t have time for this right now. Nate needed him.

Vampire hunger or not, John Smith recognized shell shock when he saw it. He knew how it could swallow someone up, even the strongest soldiers, trap them in the darkest place in their mind, and keep them locked away there for hours at a time. Which meant that Andy wasn’t going to be any help to anybody, so John turned away to tend to Nate himself and left Andy alone. Gasping, shaking, tears pouring down his cheeks, Andy backed into the corner of the room and slid to the floor.

* * *

Days Earlier...

As the remaining hunters returned to Gordon’s house in the suburbs, they clambered out of their cars and approached the house, muttering to one another about the lost opportunity to take the nest. Gordon led the pack back to the front door but froze when he saw a smear of blood on the doorframe. He held up his hand, catching the attention of the other hunters, pointed to the blood, and slowly drew his machete from his belt. The others did the same as their disappointed murmurs turned to silence and their eyes scanned the surrounding area for threats.

They crept inside, but everything was silent, mostly undisturbed. More smudges and smears of fresh blood led them through the house all the way to the garage. Opening the door, Gordon reached inside and turned on the lights. Nothing immediately jumped out at him and tried to sink its fangs into his throat. So, he scanned the room, but it didn’t take much searching to find Andy cowering in the corner.

His dress shirt was drenched in blood, and more of it coated his mouth and hands. His head leaned against the wall and shoulders hunched, Andy sobbed, tears making tracks through the rusty grime on his face. When the older hunter drew closer, Andy looked up suddenly. Gordon’s grip tightened on the handle of the machete.

“Andy?”

He flinched at the sound of his own name echoing back at him in the small room and stared up at Gordon through squinted eyes. The light was too bright - when had it gotten so bright? His hands shook the longer he looked up at his mentor and tried to remember how he'd gotten there in the first place. He just remembered fleeing, fast and terrified and driven by instinct to find someone who might protect him.

Gordon narrowed his eyes. “What happened?”

“I - I don't know,” Andy stammered, looking around and wincing again at the light shining above him, reflecting off the metallic tools and weapons. “We were - we were surrounded and - and they knew - oh God.” Flashes of screaming faces, of fangs digging into skin, of Shiv - no, he couldn't - stop, stop! Andy covered his ears to block out her scream. His muscles were tight, and God, he couldn’t breathe. It felt like there was a weight on his chest, and Gordon kept staring at him, kept standing there, kept not helping him. Why wouldn't he help him? Why hadn't he come?

Meanwhile Gordon surveyed the scratches and cuts across Andy’s skin, the blood around his mouth and dripping down his neck. He slowly backed away, raising his machete between himself and Andy. “I’m going to ask you again: what happened?”

But the more Andy thought about it, the more his terror turned to rage. He blinked up at Gordon, unable to answer. Everything, everything from the moment they entered the club to the moment he ran was just a mad blur in his mind, a tangle of memories he wanted desperately to erase, but he knew one thing. He knew one thing for sure. Gordon hadn’t been there. Gordon was supposed to help, swoop in with a wave of hunters and get them out alive, but he didn’t. Andy tried to push himself up, baring his teeth as fangs pierced through pale gums. “Where were you?”

Without so much as flinching, Gordon set his jaw, no sympathy in his voice as he asked, “You said you were attacked?”

Unaware of the change that was overcoming him, Andy’s hands curled into fists, and he couldn’t seem to see the weapon Gordon was holding either. He only saw the eyes of the man that he had trusted with his life, and who had failed him. “I tried calling - you never came! The rest of you never came!” He stood to his full height then, squaring his shoulders as he stared Gordon down.

“How did you get away?” Gordon asked and backed up another step.

Lost somewhere between hate and despair, Andy shook his head, the memories all jumbled up in blood and gore. “They didn’t - they didn't bite me…”

Other hunters filled the hall outside the door to the garage, and Gordon reached back to close the door and lock it behind him. He didn't need any interruptions. “I’m not worried about you being bitten, Andy.”

Finally connecting the dots, Andy looked down at his blood-covered hands then back up at Gordon, at the blade held between them. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, what he could see in his mentor’s eyes. “Gordon, I haven't hurt anyone!” He raised his hands to his head, fingers curling in his already matted hair, and Gordon twitched, ready to strike. Andy felt his heart sinking into the sludge filling up his chest. “Please - I need your help!”

But Gordon just shook his head, stood his ground, and raised the machete between them again. “I'm afraid there's no help for you, Andy. Not anymore.”

Outside the room, the other hunters heard the sounds of a struggle, crashing and shouting, before Gordon suddenly flew through the door and hit the wall hard. They looked into the room at Andy - his eyes wide in shock at what he'd done - but Gordon pushed himself up and shouted, “Shoot him!”

The command snapped the hunters out of their surprise, and they rushed the garage en masse, their weapons drawn. Andy raced out the back door to the garage into the backyard beyond where the blue lights of the pool shimmered in the early morning light. They opened fire as he vaulted over the fence and vanished.

“Hold your fire! Hold it!” Gordon commanded as he tore into the yard after them, limping slightly.

“What happened?” one of the hunters demanded.

Gordon swiped a hand over his face. He couldn’t believe they'd been so stupid that they’d let him get away. “He's been turned. He's just another fang now.” Turning back to the others, Gordon leveled his gaze at them. “Start searching. Find him, and when you do, kill him on sight.”

A few yards away, crouched and hidden behind a fence, Andy listened to Gordon's words as his heart pounded wildly in his ears. Overcome with grief and fear and clamping a hand tight over his mouth, he could only barely contain his emotions as he heard the other hunters follow Gordon back inside the house. When the door slammed, Andy's whole body jolted with the sound of it, and he stayed there a moment, breathing hard, shivering, trying to pull himself back together.

But that was reality, wasn't it? What he'd learned from the beginning - you get turned, all bets are off. All loyalty is gone, and you get hunted just like any other monster.

That didn't mean he was going to wait around for them to find him. So, Andy pushed his fear down, dragged himself to his feet, and disappeared without ever looking back.

* * *

Days later...

Andy sat outside the motel room on the curb at the edge of the parking lot, plucking weeds out of the cracks in the concrete and listening to the sound of John treating Nate’s wounds inside. He could hear everything - other guests milling around inside their rooms, the buzzing wings of the bugs flying around the light above his head, Nate’s ragged breathing. Andy tried to ignore it the best that he could, but it was all so overwhelming. What he wouldn't give in that moment for silence, just a little peace and quiet without the whole world crammed inside his brain at once.

Suddenly his stomach churned again, a sharper pain now than it was before, a knife digging in deep. He could hardly breath around it. Everything twisted and spun again, a gory kaleidoscope with teeth, and Andy gasped and fell forward onto his hands and knees. The tunnel vision overtook him in a wave, and caught up in the waking nightmare, Andy saw something else, something far away from the motel in the middle of the desert...

He was back at that suburban home at the edge of Vegas with the cactus growing in the front yard. But not in his memories, not that awful night again. Now a hoard of vampires rushed towards the house from all sides, rushing in through the front doors and the windows to attack the hunters holed up inside, another gut-wrenching massacre that left Andy with the taste of copper on his tongue.

The vision faded as Andy groaned at the growing pain inside his skull, and a hand came to rest on his shoulder. A jolt went through his whole body at the touch, like he'd been electrocuted. And Andy snarled and spun around, snapping his fangs at the person reaching towards him, and John took a step back with his hands raised.

“I didn't mean to scare you, son, but you sounded like you were in pain.”

It took effort to retract the fangs, his gums aching and jaw pulsing in a way he couldn't understand and didn't want to. With shame burning across his face like a brand, Andy glanced away from John and wrapped his arms around himself as if maybe to hold himself back. “I - I don't know what's happening to me.”

Watching the boy closely, John traced a thumb along his jawline and shrugged his tired shoulders. “I could tell you what's happening, but you're probably happier not knowing.”

Andy certainly couldn’t argue with that. So, he nodded as he rubbed at the sides of his head, stealing short glances at John. “How’s Nate?”

“He'll be fine, just needs to get his strength back.” John rubbed his thumb over the needle's mark in the crook of his elbow. It could never be said he wouldn't give his own blood to save his son, in spite of some other things that could be said about his parenting. Glancing up again, John watched the way Andy kept massaging his temples and frowned. “You mind telling me what's going through your head?”

“Yeah, I think I do,” Andy muttered. Even if they had worked together to get out of that building alive, Andy wasn’t exactly eager to share his thoughts with John just yet. But the more that the words of that vampire came back to him, the more he started to wonder. He really wished literally anyone else was there for this, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

He turned back to John. “The fangs said that I was their spy.”

John considered that a moment. Fangs got a sick joy from turning others, sometimes especially hunters, but creating spies was another territory altogether. “They probably sniffed you out,” John offered, tucking one hand into a pocket of his blood-spattered jeans.

“I think it’s more than that, though,” Andy said as he started to pace back and forth beneath the buzzing light illuminating their part of the parking lot. The first place that Andy had run back to when he was turned had been Gordon's house, and if... whatever just happened in his head was real, the fangs had found the house and attacked it. They'd even found him at the motel with Nate clear on the other side of town. Then Andy made a face as a thought crossed his mind, and he knew he was going to sound insane for asking it, but what did he have to lose exactly? He peered up at John. “Are vampires… psychic?”

For a moment, John regarded Andy in silence, another quick look up and down before he went to lean against the back of his old Dodge truck. “Most any other hunter would tell you they're not, and furthermore that there's no such thing.”

“But you wouldn’t,” Andy ventured, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

John barely shrugged his shoulders, looking down at his beaten leather boots. “There's a reason me and my son never tangled with vampires, at least not on purpose. They start out human.”

Andy felt his head go cold, and he had to prop himself against the painted brick wall of the motel before he quietly argued, “So do werewolves.”

John shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “But werewolves lose themselves to their feeding frenzies. I've never seen a vampire go full feral before.”

Neither had Andy now that he thought about it. Those were the reasons most hunters avoided fangs. They were too close to human still, and now Andy knew that better than probably any hunter alive. But he also knew that, whatever this infection was, it was pulling him apart at the seams. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to turn fully, but he could guess it wouldn’t leave one with much humanity intact.

“Just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t mean they can’t or won't.”

Again John shrugged, and Andy couldn’t believe this was the same man that had stalked into that other motel room and started throwing around orders right after trying to take Andy’s head off. He was just as difficult to pin down as Nate was, even though Andy felt sick trying to look for similarities between the two. “No, it doesn't," John conceded. "But I don't want to find out, and I never wanted Nathan to either. We - tend to work a little more traditionally.”

Andy dropped his gaze. Nate hadn’t told many stories about his dad. The few that he did share when Andy pressed him, or when Nate had a few too many drinks between hunts, had always painted a very stark picture.

John was a textbook hunter - good at his job but not one to brag. People trusted him even if they didn’t like him, and it was rare that he met a monster he couldn’t match. When it came to being a father, though, well Nate never had to include many details on that. Andy could see the results well enough.

But looking at John now, Andy wasn’t sure what to think. “Nate always said you were by the book.”

John scoffed a little, a sort of knowing smile on his face that Andy hadn’t expected. “You could say that.” He shifted his position a little, working at a sore muscle in his shoulder. “Nathan's a romantic, though. Soon as he learned the truth, he started reading all the old novels, old stories, all this  _ fiction _ …” John sighed and rolled his eyes, but there was something almost nostalgic, almost humorous in his tone. “He tried to base his hunting on that for a while, but there's a reason those books aren't true. They exaggerate. They twist the lore of what's actually out there.”

Andy couldn’t hide his surprise. It was hard to picture his partner ever being that naive. Much less  _ reading _ . “You mean the original stuff?  _ Count Dracula _ and all that?”

Almost fondly, John nodded his head, his arms crossed over his chest. “Wrote his first book report on it. A part of him always clung to fiction.” He paused and rubbed a thumb across the scarred palm of his left hand. “Guess that's why we never really lined up all that well.”

Andy crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, among other reasons.”

John didn’t deny it. He shrugged and nodded as if he knew it were true, but that didn’t mean he’d done anything in all this time to fix it, Andy thought to himself. A few years ago, Andy had wondered why Nate was hunting alone when they met. Even before he'd met Nate, Andy had heard stories of John Smith and the boy who was shaping up to be just like him - a pair of hunters like walking, talking meat cleavers. It hadn't made sense that Nate would walk out on working with his old man, with someone who knew so much and had survived so long. But now, after meeting John for himself, Andy didn’t wonder anymore. Living life like a butcher didn't leave a lot of time for music or friends or fiction. It cost something, something John was willing to lose but Nate wasn't.

Andy just shook his head. There was no sense in dwelling on it now.

Andy had other issues to work through, after all. “In the original book, Dracula could hypnotize people, right?” Andy had heard stories of psychics before - ones that could look into the future, speak with spirits, or in the rarer stories, even control things or people with their minds. Most hunters avoided them like the plague if they believed in them at all. Some, the crazier kind in Andy’s opinion, consulted them. But if a human could have such abilities, who’s to say a vampire couldn’t as well?

“Do you think,” Andy asked slowly, “there’s a - a chance?”

John shrugged again and stood up, moving back towards the door of the motel room. “Like I said, most any other hunter out there would tell you no.” He swung open the door but paused as he looked inside. Then with a smirk thrown in Andy's direction, he nodded inside. 

“He’s awake.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back.

Las Vegas, Nevada  
May, 2011

Andy followed John inside, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the softer light of the floor lamp inside the room. Half-way sat up in bed and looking a little less like he was knocking on Death's door, Nate peered cautiously around the dimly lit room like he was trying to figure out how he’d gotten there. Andy knew how much Nate hated waking up somewhere he didn’t recognize, especially since Andy hadn’t thought to put Nate’s hunting knife within reach before he'd had his little meltdown.

When Nate saw John enter first, he froze instinctively, and his gaze flickered to Andy next, full of confusion and concern. But Andy gave him an easy smile and an “okay” sign behind John’s back, just enough to let him know that there was no imminent danger of Andy being beheaded or lapsing into Monster Mode, at least at that moment. And that got a small smirk out of his dazed partner. Flicking on the lamp between the beds despite the strain it put on his eyes, Andy sat down at the end of the bed as John put an extra pillow beneath Nate to help him sit up a little more.

“Thought you were a goner, man,” Andy told him and jerked his head towards the door. “Figured I was about five minutes from inheriting the Firebird and blowing this popsicle stand.”

Nate scoffed, only a little above a wheeze, barely able to keep his head upright. “That’s cute, real cute. You know when I do kick the bucket, I’m going to be buried in that car, and don’t you think otherwise.”

John shoved a glass of water into Nate’s good hand before reaching into the black duffel bag to find a sling for Nate’s other arm. Andy stood up. “I’ll take care of it.” And passing off the sling to Andy, John went to the bathroom to wash his face. “Here.” Andy shifted Nate gently.

He was grateful for the few moments alone with Nate, to look him over without John staring them down. Unfortunately, Nate appeared worse than exhausted, with the IV still stuck in his arm and gauze taped over the wound on his neck. Andy hated to leave him in the filthy, blood-stained t-shirt he was still wearing, but Andy didn’t think that, with Nate's arm as it was, he could get Nate out of it, much less into another shirt. It took some slow, careful maneuvering just to get him into the sling and even that came with a few hisses and shouts and a, "Geez, Pony, just rip my arm off why don't you?" even though Andy had barely moved Nate's arm an inch. Once he finally had the sling in place, Andy sat back. “How’s it feel?”

“Fine, I guess,” Nate muttered and frowned down at it. “But how am I supposed to play poker now?”

Andy smirked. He figured that meant Nate would be okay.

Not long after that, John returned from the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the other bed, his hair damp and his face freshly washed. He looked Nate over and rubbed his jaw. “How you doing, kiddo?”

"Kiddo" - he hadn't heard his old man use that one in a while, Nate thought and realized then just how close he might've come to actually dying if John was feeling all warm and fatherly. Nate glanced up at him briefly and shrugged, but when he did, he hissed in through his teeth at the sudden burst of blinding white pain. Rolling his injured shoulder slowly, he let out a breath, his face somehow even paler than before. “Are - are you sure you reset this right?”

“I think I know how to reset a shoulder,” John said with a smirk. “Just keep the shrugging to a minimum.”

That only made Nate pout some more. “But that’s half of my personality...”

Andy chuckled. “Yeah, and the other half is eye-rolls.”

Nate flashed a tired, goofy grin as his head fell back against the headboard of the bed again. Still laughing, Andy patted his leg, glad to have his partner back in the present, at least mostly. John stood up then and approached the bed, maybe a little too quickly. Because Nate's eyes widened, and he watched him warily before John paused and put up his hands.

“I’m just going to take the IV out.”

But Nate was already doing his best not to think about the fact that the IV was _in_ at all, let alone dwelling on the idea of someone pulling it out, which made his stomach churn wildly. It figured that with all the ghosts running around in his head all those years, it was his fear of needles that could paralyze him so completely. After a moment and a lot of internal pep-talking, Nate slowly nodded and extended his arm towards his dad who took it as Nate grimaced.

“Just relax,” John told him and listened to Nate take a ragged breath in through his nose. He removed the needle carefully as Nate breathed out. Checking his face again, the kid had managed to turn an all new shade of green, and John shook his head with a sigh. “If you're going to be sick, you're cleaning it up.”

A layer of cold sweat now covering his face, Nate screwed his eyes shut and nodded, and he took a few shallow breaths as he fought the nausea. John collected up the medical supplies and stepped away, but as soon as he did, Nate slid to the side, nearly toppling completely off the bed, and heaved onto the floor. Andy twitched but John rushed back to Nate first, cursing as he tossed the bag down and took Nate by his good shoulder to keep him from falling off the bed entirely.

Andy stood up, stepping closer, but he was unable to get past John to Nate.

He heaved a couple more times until there was nothing left in him, and finally, Nate seemed finished as his body shuddered with each gasp for breath, each weak groan of pain. With all of his meager strength now spent, he slumped into John’s arms, shaking and covered in sweat. After a few more moments, John squeezed Nate’s shoulder. “Done?”

Nate managed a nod, and John helped him to sit back up again. His face flushed and burning from the embarrassment of getting sick in front of both his partner and his dad, Nate crawled back and collapsed against the headboard while Andy rounded the bed and watched Nate attentively. He felt helpless. Normally he and Nate had a seamless process for patching each other up, but now his best friend was in worse shape than Andy had ever seen him and there wasn't much he could do to help. As if he could sense Andy's distress, John looked up at him.

“Anything I can do?” Andy asked, fretting with buttons of his jacket.

John nodded and gestured towards the door with the hand that wasn't currently holding Nate in place. “Get him something to eat and drink. There should be vending machines in the office.” Then he jutted a thumb towards the table in the room where he’d left his stuff. “Grab some cash from my wallet and go find something he can keep down.”

Nate frowned and tried a little too hard to keep his head up. “I’ve got money.”

“Keep quiet, or you’ll make yourself sick again,” John scolded him quietly and then turned back to Andy. “And see if you can find some coffee, alright?”

Somewhat assured that Nate wouldn't topple off the bed again, John stood and moved towards the bathroom to get a washcloth to clean Nate’s face and some towels to clean up the mess, but Andy was frozen in place, watching him. John turned back to him as he opened the door to the bathroom. “What?”

“I just - You want me to go out there by myself?” Andy asked, fidgeting slightly. With how often he was slipping into Monster Mode lately, Andy wasn't so sure he trusted himself.

Nate dragged his eyes up to his partner’s face as his dad spread his arms out, asking, “Are you planning to have a midnight snack while you’re out?”

Andy shook his head. “No.”

“Then go get Nathan one,” John said with as much patience as he could manage. He watched Andy snap out of his hesitation, rush to the table, and grab John’s wallet from his leather jacket before heading out the door. Once he was gone, John rolled his eyes, going back into the bathroom. _Kids _.__ After wetting a cloth and wringing it out, he came back to Nate’s side and handed the rag off to him. Nate tried to catch his dad's eyes, just to get a read on what he was thinking, but by then, John had already turned away to refill the glass of water and clean the floor.

“Andy’s good people,” Nate told him once he’d cleaned himself up a little.

John handed the glass of water back to him. “You’re delirious.”

Nate took a few sips, his head still swimming as he continued to try to catch John’s gaze. “Dad, who do you think kept me alive for the last five years?” He shifted his bad shoulder with a grunt. “It certainly wasn’t my good luck and winning personality.”

Gently as John Smith could do anything, he told him, “Go back to sleep,” and went to sit back down on the other bed after he'd tossed the soiled towels into a pile in the bathroom.

But Nate frowned, still trying to get himself comfortable. Only his shoulder ached no matter what he did, the muscles still feeling like he had little pieces of glass between them. Besides, with everything that was going on, he figured he preferred to be conscious. So, he muttered, “I’m sick of sleeping," and with too much effort, forced himself upright, and looked around in the room for any sign of his laptop. “We need to be looking for a cure.”

John sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Again, son, what cure?”

As exhausted as he was in that moment, the younger Smith was even more tired of having the same argument. “The cure that has to exist out there somewhere, Dad. Just - please. I have to find it. I have to save Andy, or at least die trying.” Which he was well on his way to doing, if Nate was honest.

And John knew it, too, which was what bothered him. He'd raised his son to be smart, not sentimental, but the kid had a protective streak a mile wide. And John knew that he wouldn’t back down, not even now. So he got up, grabbed Nate’s bag from the floor, and tossed it to the foot of his bed. Better to let him occupy himself while he recovered. As Nate dug out his laptop and booted it up, still blinking away dizziness, John continued to keep a close eye on him.

“I think you're probably as stubborn as I am,” he said eventually and smirked. “Or even as stubborn as your mother was.”

That made Nate pause and glance up at his dad whose eyes had softened at the edges, a wry twist to his mouth. Nate didn’t know what to say, he never did when John talked about Nate's mother, about Nora, so Nate looked away again, biting down on the inside of his cheek. It was easier to focus on his laptop, to ignore John turning away and going back to the other bed, kicking back with a sigh. The two of them settled into an almost-comfortable silence just like they had years ago. Their relationship had always been a far cry from perfect, but it hadn't always been so tense either, back when Nate was more eager to follow orders and John had Mary to reign him in. Though, that hadn't lasted either.

Sitting back, Nate tried not to dwell on it. For now, he just wanted to focus on finding the cure, focus on getting Andy back on his feet, and then he could worry about what John’s presence in his life once again would mean.

Or better yet, worry about that conversation John wanted to have.

Nate checked his phone - three missed calls from Matt - and he paused before he shoved it away again, going back to his research.

Not long later, Andy returned to the room with his arms full of snacks. He set a Gatorade on the bedside table and tossed a few granola bars at Nate. They bounced off his chest and arm as Nate shielded the laptop, rolling his eyes at Andy who smirked. “A meal fit for a king!”

In the corner of the room, John paced back and forth, jabbing at buttons on his phone. He glanced up to see Andy set his wallet and a few more snacks onto the table and nodded to him, as close to approval as Andy figured he'd get. Then Andy headed back to Nate’s bed and sat down next to him while Nate struggled to open the Gatorade with one hand.

“Give it here,” Andy offered, but Nate smacked his hand away.

“No!” Stubborn as ever.

Andy tried to snatch the bottle away, but even suffering from blood-loss and a busted shoulder, Nate was gifted in the art of being difficult. “Nate - just let me do it!”

As Andy reached for the bottle again, Nate pulled away and tried to block Andy’s attempts by raising his knees to push Andy's arm aside. The laptop nearly clattered to the floor before Andy, with his brand-new lightning fast reflexes, managed to catch it and toss it back onto the bed, never once pausing from swatting at Nate and grabbing for the Gatorade bottle.

“Boys!”

They both turned to John, stopping and straightening up when they saw his glare, and without anymore argument, Nate passed Andy the Gatorade. Even though he knew he should probably feel stupid for fighting with Nate in front of John, Andy couldn’t help but smirk triumphantly as he took the bottle, opened it, and handed it back. While Nate opened a granola bar wrapper with his teeth, Andy stole another appraising glace back in John's direction, then scooted closer to Nate, and leaned in.

"Hey, do you know if vampires are... psychic, at all?”

Half the granola bar hanging from his mouth, Nate stared up at Andy, and he took the bar from his lips before muttering around the food still in his mouth, “Are they what?”

Andy fidgeted with the cuffs of his jacket, which was even more ruined after the run-in with the hunters at the first motel and the vampires at the second motel... “I just - I don't know, I've been having weird flashes of like, danger and stuff, but before it happens.” Not that he was complaining, considering it had saved their lives multiple times already.

Chewing on more granola bar and swallowing this time before he spoke, Nate muttered, “Is everyone around me discovering their mutant powers at once or something?”

“What?” Andy asked, having been too focused on the loose button on his jacket to fully comprehend whatever Nate just said.

Nate blinked. His head was still woozy, and he didn’t mean to choose that particular dialogue option. “Never mind." He narrowed his eyes at his partner. "What are you seeing?”

Andy shuddered slightly and kept pulling at his clothes like he was just remembering that he hadn’t changed them in days. It hadn't seemed to matter much back when he thought he was going to die at any moment. “They aren't out of my own eyes, they're from other peoples. The sniper on the roof, the fangs coming to the motel room, stuff like that.”

Even as he watched Andy carefully, Nate stole little glances up at John who was still preoccupied on his phone. Then switching his gaze back to his laptop screen, Nate answered, “There's no records as far as hunters are concerned of vampires being... telepathic.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper as he went on, “Besides, you're the vampire expert here, not me. I deal exclusively with dead kids, remember?”

“I know, I know.” Andy shifted on the bed. He was aware that he was pressing into sensitive territory with Nate, but he needed answers. And he didn’t think that he was going to get them from anyone else at this point. “But, you said yourself, Gordon isn't going to give away all his secrets, even to me. That'd cost him his ‘edge.’ Besides, the way he's got his disciples barking after him, I doubt we've ever had a Turned last long enough to ask: Hey - you experiencing any new psychic abilities? Wanna try bending a spoon before we cut off your head?"

Nate studied John again out of the corner of the eye, and he shifted his sitting position for what felt like the fiftieth time before picking at the bedspread and sighing. “I've read... _stories_ of vampires being able to hypnotize their victims. Sometimes directly, sometimes not, but dude," he whispered and looked up at his partner, at Andy's bloodshot eyes that hid so much raw desperation behind them, and again it hit Nate right in the chest how much he needed to save him, "they weren't exactly scholarly sources.”

“But they’re all we’ve got,” Andy insisted, pulling at his matted curls. “What did they say?”

Wanting to object, Nate stopped himself. If Nate needed to believe that there was a cure out there, maybe Andy needed to believe that he wasn't just going insane. He’d been alone, waiting to be killed by people he had trusted with his life, all those days and nights, and if Nate could give him some shred of hope, he’d give anything to do it. Even if it meant chasing every stupid story he’d ever read.

“I don't know, man, they all did different stuff. They can project images into their victim's heads, make them sleepwalk, put them in trances, stuff like that.” Nate combed a hand through his hair, making it stick out even more in every direction, and gestured around vaguely. “But it's all just, you know, hocus pocus. It's not real... right?”

“Dude, I’m turning into a vampire,” Andy said, pointing at himself and waving his finger around to encompass his entire, ghastly face and general dead-man-walking appearance. “Spare me the ‘it's not real’ talk. What else can they do?”

Nate thought to himself for a moment, went back through all the stories and the movies, any little thing, and slowly, an idea started to formulate. It was crazy, but then again, everything was pretty insane at the moment. “The top vampire, the ‘Alpha’ if you will, the one that started the spread - they can psychically control all the other vampires in their bloodline, as well as normal people they bite or who drink their infected blood, or just people who piss them off, stuff like that. It’s not very specific.”

Andy sat back a bit, his hands falling into his lap as he did. “So, if that's what's happening, if this is psychic stuff, then wiping out the nest won't do any good. We need to stop the Alpha.”

Nate looked up suddenly, “Dad-”

But a knock at the door silenced him. All three of them froze. John put his phone away, and Nate set his laptop aside as Andy got up from the bed and checked to see who was at the door. Nate watched Andy’s shoulders go rigid.

“Andy?”

He turned back to them, his face white with terror, whispering, “It’s Gordon, and he's not alone.” Andy swallowed. His mentor stood on the other side of the door with several other injured hunters who must've made it out of the house when the vampires attacked - and every one of them would shoot Andy down on the spot.

Nate and John swapped a look, a silent exchange as a few snap decisions were made. Vampires weren't the only ones who could be telepathic, after all. Nodding, John reached down, grabbed Nate’s bag, and tossed it to Andy as Nate stood up from the bed like a newborn giraffe trying to get his legs underneath him for the first time. John pointed to Andy and then behind him, commanding Nate, “Take him to the bathroom. Stay quiet.”

Nodding back, Nate pushed Andy in that direction - the big guy had all but frozen stiff like just the sight of Gordon through the peep hole had sent him into a panic - and they closed themselves inside the tiny bathroom, crouching in one corner as they heard more pounding at the door. Once the boys were hidden, John snapped Nate’s laptop closed and went to answer the door.

Inside the bathroom, Nate pulled his pistol from his bag, checked the clip, and glanced at Andy who was shifting nervously, pulling at his collar, rubbing at the sides of his head. There was no window in the bathroom to slip out of, so no easy means of escape. The only ways out were past half a dozen hunters, and injured or not, Nate and Andy would be sitting ducks.

Outside, John opened the door and glared at the injured hunter on the other side. “Gordon Walker. Pity, I heard you were dead.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be my favorite chapter when it comes to John's very complex character. What a guy, that John.
> 
> See you on Monday!

Las Vegas, Nevada   
May, 2011

Blood poured from a wound on Gordon’s right cheek, and strips of white fabric had been hastily tied around his left thigh. He seemed to be mostly intact though, much to John’s disappointment.

Gordon nodded towards the office of the motel. “Clerk said there were hunters here, but I didn't think I'd see you of all people.”

A pleasant surprise, John was sure. He glanced over the rest of the bloodied group. Some of them were barely holding on, held up between two other hunters, but there were still enough of them on their feet to cause trouble. “I’m not usually one for cleaning up other people’s messes,” he grumbled and shifted his gaze back to Gordon. “In fact, I was just heading out of town.”

“That’s a shame,” Gordon said with a nod. He looked back to his crew, what was left of them. “At least you have that option. Some of my men will never see home again.”

Hardening his expression, John leaned one shoulder against the doorframe to block their line of sight inside. “And that’s my problem how?”

Gordon turned his head, watching John from the corners of his eyes as if he was trying to work something out. Finally, he said, “I always thought the famous John Smith was loyal to other hunters, above all things.” He was suspicious, John could tell that much, and the last thing that he needed right now was Gordon poking around.

“Doesn’t mean I have to bunk with them,” John snapped at him.

“I’ve got hurt men here, John,” Gordon told him as if to call on his sympathy. They were all good little soldiers working together to defeat evil, right?

But as John’s glare turned from Gordon back to the rest of the group, he knew that he couldn’t turn them away, not without looking even more suspicious. So he nodded and moved out of the way for them to come in, and they filtered into the room, dripping blood as they came. Gordon scanned the room, noticed the freshly cleaned stains on the carpet, Nate’s laptop, and the food wrappers lying around on the bedspread. John snatched up the computer and packed it into one of his bags, clearing off the bed Nate had been resting in.

“Lay him down here,” he said to two of the hunters who were carrying an unconscious man between them. He just had to keep them out of the bathroom.

Andy gasped suddenly at the overwhelming scent of fresh blood that wafted underneath the door. He quickly covered his mouth as he began to shake more violently than before and ducked his head between his knees. Nate grabbed the last of the clean towels to throw over Andy's head and shoulders in hopes of blocking out some of the stimulus hitting his partner's brain. As Andy rocked back and forth to calm himself, Nate kept a hand on the back of Andy's neck.

He trusted his dad knew what he was doing, but he just wished he’d hurry it up.

Once the worst of the wounded had been laid onto the beds, one of the hunters made a move towards the bathroom, but John grabbed his shirt. “Use the kitchen sink.”

Everyone conscious turned to John and frowned. Gordon drew closer, holding his hands out diplomatically. “We're going to need towels, a lot of them.”

John blinked once. He was not going to be ordered around by this psycho. “Then go get room service. What do I look like, to you, a maid?”

Gordon stared at John a long time before he nodded and ordered the others to do as he said. Some of the hunters left to get towels or other supplies from their trucks while one filled a pitcher in the kitchenette with water. As someone approached John asking about medical supplies, he turned aside to get his black duffel from the floor. The moment he did, Gordon slipped towards the bathroom, drew his pistol, and yanked open the door.

John turned, too late. “Gordon!”

Inside, Nate was already standing, his gun aimed at Gordon’s chest with his non-dominant hand. Andy stood a step behind him, glaring at Gordon with his fangs bared. Eye's narrowed, Nate smirked. “We just love meeting like this, don’t we? Two ships, passing in the night.”

Gordon smiled as he straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, the gun held tight in his hand. “What's wrong, son? You look like you've had a rough night.”

“Save it,” Nate spat, anger sparking and spilling over, barely contained, and he motioned in the direction of the door with his gun. “Now get the hell out of here.”

“Afraid I don’t answer to you,” Gordon started, but behind him, a shotgun cocked.

Everyone turned to face John, who held the barrel of the gun towards the back of Gordon’s head. Because nobody pointed a gun at his kid and got away with it without a new hole in their head to breathe through. “You heard the boy, Gordon.”

Sighing, Gordon chuckled to himself as he half-turned towards John and shook his head. He raised his hands slowly, but Gordon seemed hardly bothered. “And here I thought we were friends.” He glanced at the others from the corner of his eye.

And as the other hunters regained their senses, they drew their weapons and aimed them at John. Nate felt his heart skip a beat. “Dad!” But before he could react, Gordon slapped the pistol from his hand, grabbed Nate in a choke-hold, and aimed his own pistol at Nate’s head.

Andy snarled and lunged for them, but Gordon pivoted Nate between them, clicking his tongue as Andy froze. “Don't try it! I'll blow his brains out all over this lovely upholstery.”

Andy froze, snapping his fangs, but he wouldn't budge, not if Nate's life was on the line. Then to add insult to injury, the door to the room opened, and the two hunters that returned quickly dropped the towels they'd been carrying and aimed their guns at John as well. But he didn’t take his aim off Gordon for a moment, barely even flinched except to keep his aim dead center as Gordon turned both himself and Nate back towards John. In the larger hunter's arms, Nate struggled weakly against the choke-hold.

“Dad?” he choked.

“Yeah?” John asked, his fiery gaze flickering to Nate’s face for just a split second.

“Your hunting buddies? Kind of pricks,” Nate gasped as Gordon tightened his hold on Nate’s throat. He felt the medical tape begin to tear free and the wound slowly reopen.

Gordon drove the barrel of his gun against Nate’s temple. “Sure, laugh it up. At least I'm not consorting with the enemy.”

“‘Consorting with the-’ oh, gimme a break.” Nate rolled his eyes, feeling more and more lightheaded and like his knees might give out underneath him. He was starting to think karma was having a field day with him, but even he didn't deserve this much crap. Blinking the spots from in front of his eyes, he growled, “Newsflash, Gordon, the Cold War ended fifty years ago.”

But Gordon moved his head closer to Nate’s, pressing their cheeks together as he spoke. “You're funny. I can see why Daddy prefers to hunt alone, these days.” He glanced up. “Ain’t that right, John?”

Fuming, John grit his teeth and weighed his options as he watched the color slowly drain from Nate’s face again, what little there had been to start with. “Why don't you shut the hell up and get out of here before I do something you'll regret?”

Flashing another smile, Gordon shook his head. “Sorry, Johnny, no can do.” He rolled his eyes back towards Andy. “Not with the ultimate prize cornered.”

Andy looked ready to rip him apart piece by piece.

But Nate dug his fingernails into the skin of Gordon’s arm, trying to pry away just enough room to breathe. They were going to kill him - everything that Nate had done, all that they had been through, it wouldn't matter because Andy was cornered and wouldn't do a thing to defend himself, not with a gun to Nate's head. Finally Nate gulped a single breath of air, screaming, pleading, “He had nothing to do with this! He's just a victim!”

Pulling back suddenly, Gordon cracked Nate in the head with the butt of his pistol and turned towards Andy next. But in the moment that Nate dropped out of the line of fire, John used his shot to blow out the one lamp they'd left on in the corner of the room, and it plunged them once again into darkness as the other hunters swarmed him.

It was a tangle of blows and kicks, blind jabs and sharp grunts, and the four hunters managed to take John down, another gunshot exploding in the small space before John stifled a scream. Fear ripping into his chest, Nate tried to reach him in the dark. “Dad - Dad!”

The moment he made a noise, Gordon grabbed for Nate, tried to kick him down, but a pair of hands lifted Gordon from his feet and slammed him into a wall, knocking the breath from his lungs. Gordon slid to the floor, his gun ripped from his hand. When he finally caught his breath again, Gordon shot to his feet, searched for the bathroom light, and blinking away stars, turned it on. The room lit up to reveal the aftermath.

John was on his knees in the middle of Gordon’s crew, held there at gunpoint and bleeding from a wound in his shoulder but no less cocky. Nate and Andy, however, were gone, a desert breeze drifting in through the open window and billowing through the heavy curtains. When he saw it, John couldn’t hide his proud smirk and cut his eyes up to his old hunting buddy.

Gordon was all but shaking with rage as he knelt down slowly, hissing, “You and I have a lot to talk about, John.”

* * *

The sun rose on a new day, its first morning rays stretching over the desert as Nate muttered about how much he hated walking, hated sand, hated the rocks that somehow managed to always get into his boots. In the distance, they could see an old forgotten gas station along a pothole-riddled patch of road, one little speck of civilization among miles and miles of nothing, but as long as it had air-conditioning, it was Paradise on Earth as far as Nate and Andy were concerned.

With his neck sluggishly bleeding again, his flannel tied off around his waist, a new bruise blooming on the side of his head, and his arm still wrapped in the makeshift sling, Nate left Andy on the curb behind the gas station, curled pathetically around his half-empty duffel which he'd managed to grab on their way out, and limped in through the front doors. Cool air hit his face, and Nate nearly dropped on the spot in relief. One look around at the snacks lining each aisle, Nate's stomach grumbled loudly, but he was on a mission. So, he slid up to the counter where a bored teenager sat on a high stool behind the cashier.

She didn’t look up from her phone until Nate cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

When she did catch sight of him, her brown eyes widened. Not that he blamed her, he was beautiful, after all. But Nate figured it might also have something to do with the gauze on his neck, the sling, the copious amounts of blood on his clothes, the bruising around his face. Looking like he'd just escaped a zombie apocalypse often had that effect on people. The girl gaze a sharp gasp and froze, deer in the headlights style.

Rather than attempt to explain it away - really, what could he say anyway? - Nate set his phone on the counter and slid it towards her with a weak attempt at his usual dashing smile. “You got a charger?”

A few minutes later, Nate rounded the corner of the gas station to find Andy slumped against the back wall with his arms draped across his knees and his head leaned forward, the duffel tucked into his lap. He was just barely keeping himself awake, even in the full light of the morning. Nate tapped his shoulder and passed Andy his phone.

Then - painfully, slowly, stiffly - Nate slid down the wall to sit next to Andy, one knee propped up with his elbow resting against it, and he started fishing through the plastic bag of things he’d bought inside. First, sustenance. He popped open a can of obscenely sugary energy drink with his teeth and guzzled half the can in one go. Gagging a little, he passed the drink to Andy who took it and snorted.

“You know, this stuff is probably toxic for me now.”

Nate winced and rolled his eyes. “It's toxic for me too. You're nothing special.”

Figuring that was fair, Andy shrugged his shoulders and chugged the rest of the drink, shivering when he finished it. Freshly hydrated, Nate opened a bag of jerky next, also with his teeth. He was apparently quite talented at doing things one-handed, at least when it came to stuffing his face. And he shoved a few pieces in his mouth before passing that to Andy, too. Sniffing at the dried meat, Andy frowned down at the bag, took a piece, and began nibbling on it as they watched buzzards circle overhead. Andy just hoped the big, ugly birds didn't get any ideas.

“Dude,” Nate said, drawing out two pairs of cheap sunglasses from the bottom of the plastic bag - neon green for him, and for Andy, neon pink. With sparkles. “Let’s never come back here.”

Andy snorted again and toasted with the glasses before flicking them open and sliding them on. Sparkly or not, it was an instant relief for his pounding head, and he welcomed it with a sigh. Fed and hydrated and out of immediate danger of being sucked on by vampires or shot full of holes, they both slumped back against the wall of the gas station, a truly miserable pair.

Andy huffed. “Deal.”

Hours later, by the time Nate had eaten through the rest of his jerky and had shifted positions about a million different times in a desperate attempt to stay awake and on guard, he finally looked up to see an old four-door, silver Prius appear on the road a mile out from the gas station. Grinning, he bumped Andy, who had fallen asleep against Nate’s shoulder. “Hey, Pony, rise and shine. Uber’s here.”

The Prius pulled to a stop beside them, and Matt jumped out, rushing towards them, his eyes wide as he saw all the blood. “Oh my God - what happened to you two?” Panicked or not, Nate was so relieved to see him, he thought he might cry.

Instead he smirked up at him and flashed a peace sign, squinting through his sunglasses and sweat drenched hair. “Vegas, man, it’s a wild place.”

Matt dropped to his knees in front of them, and Nate went stiff as Matt inspected him. Gently moving aside the gauze at his neck, Matt winced at the wound beneath and brushed a hand over his little brother's injured shoulder while he searched for any more wounds. Little nicks and bruises here and there, but he was still in one piece despite how beat to crap that one piece was. Then he looked to Andy who was still passed out against Nate’s other shoulder, concern drawing his face tight. Andy looked - well - _dead_.

As if sensing where his brother's mind was going, Nate nodded his head a little. “He’s fine, he’s fine,” he assured Matt, reaching up to pat the side of Andy’s face. “He’s just… more nocturnal these days.”

Matt raised an eyebrow at that. Their phone call had been brief. Of course, it hadn't taken much, just the sound of Nate's dulled, woozy voice and an address for the gas station to convince Matt to drive out to find him. So Nate still had a lot of explaining to do, but more than anything, Matt was just worried about what kind of a state his little brother was in. He looked awful, pale and exhausted and battered to put it kindly. And Matt reached out again, his hand pausing awkwardly as he asked again, quieter, “Seriously, what happened to you?”

Nate let his head roll to one side, scoffing a little. “What hasn’t happened to me?” If he started listing it all now, they'd be there until the sun went down.

But Matt didn’t laugh. He just waited there for a straight answer, heart hammering in his chest and hazel eyes searching Nate’s face. He wished he could grab the stupid, sarcastic little punk and pull him into a hug, but he was afraid if he did, Nate might actually fall apart at the seams. Eventually, Nate just rolled his eyes and reached out a hand for Matt to take.

“Let’s just go.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we getting nearer to the end? Well, yes, inevitably, but also yes, narratively!

Las Vegas, Nevada   
May, 2011

In another bathroom in another motel - Nate was starting to lose count of how many he’d been in during the last two days - he leaned heavily against the sink and prodded at the blood-stained gauze taped to his neck. After a much-needed shower, the tape was already starting to come off even as he’d tugged his dusty jeans back on. He slowly peeled away the rest of the gauze, hissing as it tugged at the dried blood on his neck.

Finally ripping it away with a somewhat overly-dramatic, “Ow!” Nate stared at the wound in the foggy mirror. It had mostly scabbed over now, though it still looked pretty hideous, a far cry from the two neat piercings often portrayed in books and movies. At least he wasn’t going to bleed out anytime soon, thanks to his dad he supposed, rubbing a thumb over the spot on his arm where the needle had stuck in. He tossed the gauze into the trash and stared at it, remembering the sound of his father getting shot before Andy dragged Nate out the window.

It, like so many other things the last couple of days, made his stomach bottom out.

But Nate shoved the thought aside into the pile of unwanted thoughts that was slowly growing in the corner of his mind, threatening to topple over and bury him alive. And he shuffled back into the other room, frowning at the decor. Everything was poker chips and playing cards, like Vegas threw up back in the 60’s and instead of cleaning it up, someone decided to build a motel on it. He walked over to where Matt knelt beside the bed that they’d laid Andy on, checking his vitals. Andy had slept the entire drive from the gas station and had only woken up just long enough to splash some water on his face and change into the clothes Matt had brought for him before passing out again, finally rid of the destroyed tuxedo.

Matt glanced up at Nate, then dropped his head and scrubbed at his hair. “I’m not getting much of a pulse.”

Nate stared emptily at Andy’s face and shrugged his one good shoulder, his whole body stiff and stale even after the hot shower. “I told you, he's turning into a vampire, and their hearts don't work at all.” So, maybe it was normal - or so he hoped - another thought on the pile. Nate kept his bad arm held against his stomach as he unzipped one of the bags Matt had brought with him.

“Their hearts don't work?” Matt frowned, trying to make sense of that, logically. He always got that same screwed-up look on his face whenever he tried to make the supernatural appear more natural. Usually it would infuriate Nate a little, but now, it was almost comforting. Big brother with all the answers, the simple explanations, if anyone could fix Andy, it would be him. Matt held his hands out in front of him, moving them as he asked, “What - so does none of the rest of them work, either? Do they breathe? Do they digest?”

Rolling his eyes, Nate pushed aside some things inside the bag in search of another shirt. “I don't know, dude, I've never met one. Well, I  _ had  _ never met one.” He pointed down at the bag. “All these clean?”

Matt nodded to him vaguely, still watching Andy and squinting.

Nate stared down at the black t-shirt he’d found and tried to come up with a plan of attack for how to get it on while Matt stood from where he’d been crouching for far too long and went back to his laptop on the little sofa by the window. With a sigh, he plopped down, pulling the computer into his lap. “You said you were looking for a cure, right?”

Moving his shoulder was still a huge pain, and Nate groaned as he pulled the t-shirt on over his head and convinced each arm to fit into the little holes. Once he’d finally gotten into the thing, he flopped down on the end of his bed, exhausted. “I don't know anymore. I was, then this all happened, and on top of that, I keep being told it doesn't exist…”

He sat up slowly, rested his elbows on his knees, and glanced over at his partner again, feeling hopeless. “Andy's the one who hunts these bastards, and he's never heard of any kind of cure.”

Matt rubbed at the top of his head as he looked out the window, the little crack between the blackout curtains that he could see through. “But you also said that this Gordon guy, he's nuts, and you don't think he would share one even if he had it.”

“Oh, he’s nuts alright. But…” Nate sagged a little more as Matt watched and rubbed his dry eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

Matt chewed at the corner of his lip. The kid looked like he’d been dropped off a cliff, rolled through a bed of cacti, and hit by a bus - the Wiley Coyote School of Bad Days. Matt sighed, wishing he could do more to help, but as it stood, he was only good for showing up with clean clothes and a credit card that wasn’t maxed out. But judging by the look in Nate's eyes, he wouldn't be much good to his partner either, not with those bags beneath his eyes weighing him down. “You should get some rest.”

Nate just scoffed. It was becoming his new form of shrugging, he thought and frowned. Matt just stared at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking, why he wasn't responding. “Nate?”

He jumped a little at the sound of his name. His eyes widened as if he’d just woken up, and he blinked at Matt. “Huh?”

Matt smiled. He couldn’t help it. “Sleep, please.” He nodded to the other bed. “I’ll keep an eye on Mr. Twilight over there.” Matt watched Nate sluggishly glance over at Andy again before he nodded and settled down against the pillows, drawing up the end of the bedspread over himself instead of just getting under the covers.

When he did, Matt went back to work, still smiling to himself. Just because their good pal Gordon Walker wasn’t interested in sharing a cure even if he had one, that didn’t mean someone else wouldn’t be willing, maybe with a little incentive. And thanks to his and Stephanie’s recent research following the trail of Fazbear Entertainment, he happened to know exactly where to look to find the shadiest people who knew how to find the shadiest things.

And if he could be helpful, he could rest a little easier, too, and it wasn’t long before he heard the rumbling sound of Nate’s snoring.

* * *

It was dark again, and the air was hot, as Nate stood outside the door to the safe house motel room. He could hear the sounds of Gordon and his crew inside, and as he pushed open the door, Gordon hit John across the face again, sending his head snapping to the side.

Nate felt the air go out of him as if he was the one who'd been hit. “Dad!”

John was bloody and bruised, tied to a chair in the middle of the group of hunters who were all standing around taunting him. His shirt was in tatters, the gunshot wound in his shoulder still bleeding freely down his arm. He glared up at Gordon wordlessly before he was hit again, his chin dropping against his chest. The others laughed.

Nate pushed through the group with jutting elbows, not caring about the pain in his shoulder. “Stop! Stop it!” They couldn’t do this! He couldn’t let them, but no one was listening to him even as he forced his way closer to his dad.

Gordon leaned down to John’s eye level. “If I've told you once, John, I've told you a hundred times: we don't need to do this. Just tell us where the boys are, and this will all be behind us.”

With his eyes locked on Gordon, Nate tried again to get to his dad’s side, shoving other hunters left and right, but when he finally reached him, John raised his head to look up at Gordon and smiled, revealing the blood that coated his teeth. “I already did.”

Nate gasped and stumbled back. He crashed into Gordon who was suddenly looming taller and taller, or maybe Nate was shrinking, standing at the height of a six year-old child and running for the door. But as he reached for the handle to flee, Andy stepped into his path, fangs bared in a hungry smile, eyes wide and soulless. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Nate spun around as the other hunters all opened their mouths to reveal razor-sharp fangs that dripped with saliva. They surrounded him, reached for him with clawed hands. Nate felt so small, screaming for his dad to help, but his voice got tangled in his throat. Then Gordon stepped forward, grabbed Nate by the front of his shirt, and hauled him up off the ground. Nate kicked his feet uselessly, gasping.

“Wakey, wakey, Nathan!” Gordon hissed through fangs so long, they were physically impossible. “Time to taste the blood!” In a flash, Gordon surged towards Nate’s throat with his mouth opened wide like he might swallow Nate’s head whole.

And with one last cry for help, Nate surged awake, fighting back against the hands that were trying to hold him down. He shoved against the person’s chest, and Matt hit the floor hard, sprawled onto his back. Accidentally rolling onto his injured shoulder with a sharp gasp, Nate grabbed at it, his fingers numb from sleeping on his left arm. A groan rattled his chest, and he dropped onto his other side again, curling in on himself, the comforter tangled around his legs.

Matt sat up on the side of the bed and hovered near Nate, unsure of what to do. “Nate! You okay?” He reached a hand near his brother and almost got it bitten off.

“Do I freaking look okay?” Nate snapped, his voice cracking as he panted for air.

“I'm sorry.” Matt drew back and looked him over as Nate worked to control his labored breathing. Guilt took another stab at Matt’s stomach. He’d only wanted to wake Nate up because he was tossing in his sleep, and Matt thought he might hurt himself. “I didn’t know your shoulder was hurt. I - I thought it was just your arm.”

As his breathing finally, finally slowed, Nate uncurled a little, his face and the back of his neck slick with cold sweat. “It’s okay… just, kinda caught me at a bad time.”

Matt gave a sympathetic half-smile. “When is it ever a good time to catch you?”

Nate turned his head over to glare at his older brother who only shrugged innocently. Rolling his eyes, Nate shifted onto his back and stared up at the ceiling as he took a few more deep, calming breaths to ease away the pulsing pain in his shoulder.

Matt watched Nate’s eyes shift back and forth. “Can I ask what it was?”

“No,” Nate said gruffly.

When Matt stood, he reached out and ruffled Nate’s damp hair gently before he headed back to his laptop on the sofa. Nate glanced over at Andy who had only barely stirred since Nate had fallen asleep earlier, but he figured it was fair. Andy probably hadn’t slept much at all in the last week, and what little sleep he'd had when Nate was around had been interrupted by nightmares. Then, frowning, Nate pushed himself up and blinked in thought. His ridiculous bedhead poked out in all directions.

Matt couldn’t help but smile at him in his obvious confusion. He always had been the grumpiest sleeper, ever since they were kids. When Nate finally noticed Matt watching, he raised his eyebrows at him expectantly, and Matt just giggled. “You get it all sorted out there, Chief?”

Ignoring the fondness and humor in Matt’s eyes - though it was a nice alternative to his dad's grumbling and Andy’s recent forays into brooding - Nate got to his feet and, still a little dizzy, stumbled over to where Matt was sitting. “Do you have my phone?”

Matt gestured to the nearby table where a tangle of laptop and phone chargers were plugged into the outlets. Nate stared at the bundle like he wasn’t sure what to do with any of it, still groggy from sleep and his own nightmare. Eventually Matt leaned over and grabbed Nate’s phone, waving it under his brother’s nose. “Hello? You in there? It’s for you.”

Still ignoring Matt’s attempt at humor, Nate took the phone and unlocked it before he headed for the door. Matt sat forward, brow wrinkled. “Where are you going?”

“I have to call someone,” Nate said while scrolling through his few contacts. He slammed the door shut behind him, waking Andy with a jolt. Blinking, Andy stared at the door and then looked over at Matt who shrugged and watched the door as if he could see Nate through it. Worry settled heavily on his shoulders.

Outside, Nate staggered in the late afternoon sunlight, leaned against the wall, and sank down to sit with his knees propped up and his head bowed forward, staring at the name “John” in his contact list. Then he hit the call button and pressed the phone to his ear.

It wasn’t John that answered.

_ “Hello again, Nathan,” _ Gordon said cheerily.

Nate bristled at the sound of his voice, especially after his nightmare. “Where's my dad, you son of a bitch?”

Gordon chuckled mildly, almost sounding bored.  _ “I wouldn't worry about John.”  _ More visions of Nate’s dream flashed through his mind, churning his stomach, and he clenched his jaw. _ “I would worry more about yourself the longer you hang out with that  _ thing _.” _

Through his teeth, Nate answered, “That ‘thing’ is my best friend, a kid you practically raised since he picked up his first shotgun.”

At least Gordon managed a sigh, like part of him did regret what had happened.  _ “Yes, it's a shame, losing Andy like that. It's a terrible way to go. But I'm surprised.” _ Gordon’s voice changed, then, became harsher, sharper like the machete he would never be caught without.  _ “If he means so much to you, you should have put him out of his misery a long time ago.” _

“What? Like you tried to do?” Nate snapped, so full of rage that he could feel his hands shaking.

_ “You may think you've got me all figured out, but you don't know the first thing about what you've gotten yourself into. Vampires are dangerous. You can't trust them. You can only just barely predict them like the mindless animals they are.” _ Gordon sounded so self-righteous, so self-assured, Nate thought he was going to pop a blood vessel listening to him.  _ “At least I know that when I die, I'll go out swinging, instead of climbing into bed with one of them like you did.” _

Finally, Nate took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes as warm, orange sunlight washed over him from the setting sun and cast half of his face in shadow, hair billowing over his eyes. Scooping it back from his eyes, he thought maybe he should get it cut... “You're wrong, Gordon. About going after the nest. If you do, you'll be walking into a trap, and everyone with you will die. And it won't end, they'll just repopulate.” Nate thought a moment, knowing he was going to risk sounding insane yet again, but this was Gordon. If Nate started caring what Gordon Walker thought of him, he’d really be in trouble. “You know the phrase, ‘cut off the head, the body dies’? I'd be meditating on it right now, if I were you.”

There was a moment of pause before Gordon huffed.  _ “Are you really giving me advice on how to deal with a bunch of dirty fangs?” _

Nate hung his head, rubbing at the muscles in his neck. “Against my better judgement, I'm trying to save your life.” He looked up again and squinted into the light. It would be a nice view if he wasn't also seeing red. Gordon wasn't doing anything for Nate's blood pressure. So he took a deep breath and tried to sound calm, “Not that I expect you to listen. But I had to warn you, at least.”

_ “And why’s that?” _

Pausing for a while, Nate chewed his bottom lip in thought. “Just... trying to prove a theory. Bye, Gordon. Uh - you suck, by the way. Just so you know.” Then he hung up and let his head drop back against the wall. Shutting his eyes, he let himself breathe as the sun sank lower down the horizon and disappeared.

* * *

Back at the other motel room, Gordon stared down at the phone in his hand before looking up at John who was tied to a chair but otherwise unharmed aside from the place on his shoulder where the bullet had grazed him.

John smirked, sensing Gordon’s anger beneath his usual calm facade.

“Your boy says ‘hi’,” Gordon said and tossed the phone aside onto the kitchen counter where it landed with a loud clatter.

John raised an eyebrow. “Not my boy. My boy would say ‘up yours,’ and he'd mean it, too.”

Gordon studied him, stepped over, and knelt in front of John. “He tried to give me some hunting advice,” he told John, his chin propped in one hand.

“Oh really?” John mused, still smirking. “And what wisdom did he impart?”

“Just spouting some old nonsense about cutting off heads, as if he can't tell the difference between a snake and a vampire.” Gordon watched as John silently put the dots together, but he made no comment about it. Instead, Gordon grinned and leaned closer to ask, “Tell me, John, your boy - sweet, fiery little Nathan - who does he take after more? You, or Mommy?”

John didn’t answer, only glared at Gordon with icy cold eyes. But that was answer enough. Gordon’s grin only got wider as he nodded. “Interesting.” He stood and moved towards the kitchen where one of his crew had made coffee for them.

When he turned his back, John finally spoke up again, twisting his wrists as the rope bit into his skin. “You don’t know anything about my family.”

Gordon looked back over his shoulder, eyes gleaming like a snake's. “No, not everything. But enough to not be scared of them.” He smirked again and walked away to leave John fuming, wondering just how much Gordon did know.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter fills in any holes left hanging around.
> 
> Hehe.  
> Double vampire pun.

Las Vegas, Nevada   
May, 2011

Once the sun had gone down completely, leaving a blanket of stars stretched overhead and a chill that threatened to settle in deep, Nate managed to get to his feet again - with a lot of grunting and complaining and leaning heavily against the wall - and he went back inside the motel room to find Andy sitting propped up in his bed, awake and yawning. Nate's tired scowl melted into a bright, wide grin. “Stein!”

Stifling his yawn, Andy gave Nate a lopsided smile and nodded. “‘Sup, snotwad.”

The three boys lounged on the squeaky motel beds as they ate the sandwiches that Matt had brought with him. Andy, even though his stomach as was twisting with hunger, only barely touched his. Food, at least the kind he was used to, was quickly becoming less and less appealing, and the briefest thought of what he did crave sent his appetite running for the hills. So instead, he tried to fill both the brothers in on everything he knew.

“Several weeks ago, Gordon asked me to help him track down the nest here in Vegas, and I did, along with... Shiv and Miles.” He grimaced and hid his expression behind one hand. “Uh - we knew that the fangs had to be increasing - or in the least, maintaining - their numbers somehow, so I whipped up a fake Homeland Security ID for Gordon, and he went undercover into the police department, filtering missing persons files and cases back to me and the others.”

Matt narrowed his eyes at Andy, a little dumbfounded by the idea. “Come on, Homeland Security? You know they double check all that, right?”

But Nate just smirked proudly at his partner and slapped him on the back. “Nah, Andy’s a wizard with fake IDs, paper or digital.”

Brushing off the compliment with a small smile, Andy went on, pulling out his phone as he did. “Anyway, we tracked down every last missing person case filed from the city and surrounding areas, collected names and dates of birth, ran all that through a search engine that Shiv made, basically the same thing the Feds and Homeland are already doing, but a lot more extensive.” Andy shrugged his shoulders as he opened his apps. “Then we saw a pattern.”

He held up his phone for them to see one app in particular. “One thing that a lot of these missing people had in common was a dating app called ‘Point,’ and most everyone who had used it vanished at a select few locations around the city.”

Matt blinked a few times in disbelief. “Hold on, hold on, dating?” He looked from Nate to Andy and back, his forehead wrinkled up in obvious confusion. “People are really out there looking to go on dates with  _ vampires _ ?” But he stopped himself as visions of sparkly vampires, shirtless werewolves, and crazed fangirls danced through his head. Suddenly his confusion turned to a blank disappointment in the human race. “You know what? Never mind, go on.”

Equally disturbed but less surprised by the thought, Andy rubbed at his scalp with a sigh. “So, long story short, we applied to join the app, but they had this whole waiting list and verification process to make sure we were who we said we were.”

“That’s weird,” Matt muttered to himself, frowning as he pinched off a bite of his sandwich.

And Andy nodded. “You’re telling me!” Then he noticed the way Nate kept side-eyeing the rest of Andy's sandwich, so he shoved it towards his partner. As Nate happily started munching, Andy continued, “Anyway, we started staking out the primary locations everyone using the app had gone missing at, unsure where the epicenter was until they attacked Miles outside this nightclub called  _ Satisfaction _ .” He fidgeted with his phone then, remembering how quickly it all happened. One moment they were all together, joking and teasing the kid, and next thing Andy knew, he was covered in Miles' blood. Andy wiped a hand over his face, just ready for it all to be over with, one way or another. “Then once Shiv and I got our dates, we planned the attack, but…”

Nate and Matt both shifted uncomfortably as Andy told them the rest in a hushed, breathy voice, his eyes turned away from them. He even included the events of returning to Gordon's home in search of help only to be chased away in a hail of bullets. When he was done, Matt pushed a hand through his hair and got up to pace through the limited space at the ends of the beds. “Well… wow.” He looked back towards Andy and felt his stomach twist up. He hadn't known the guy for very long, but he had Andy to thank not only for his own life but for Nate's, too. Whatever it took to get Andy that cure and maybe some added closure, Matt was willing to do it.

But it clearly wasn't going to be easy.

Nate looked up at his brother, and reading what he could of Matt's expression, felt relieved his brother hadn't already started running. “Now you know why we can't let Gordon near the nest again, or any other vampires for that matter. Or hunters. Or generally anyone. It’ll just be another massacre.”

Andy nodded, but he knew all too well how difficult it would be to stop Gordon from going after the nest, what it meant to him to finally destroy it. “This isn't just a game to Gordon. Or maybe it is, maybe that makes it worse. He usually operates by some kind of moral code, but he's completely out of control at this point. Nothing is going to stop him, not this nest, not the next nest, nothing. But it won't matter if he gets himself and anyone who follows him killed.” Andy gripped his shaking hands together and searched the corners of the room before finally looking up to Matt. "Unless we stop it first."

Matt stopped pacing and turned back to Andy. “But I thought you weren’t going after the nest.”

“Well,  _ we're  _ not,” Nate told him as he swallowed the last of Andy’s sandwich. “You can't kill the body if you don't kill the head.”

That made Matt grimace. “Actually, that's not... never mind.” He waved a hand through the air, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to force his head to wrap around all the new information he'd just had served to him. “Okay, I see your point. You guys are going after the ‘Alpha,’ right? You think killing them will - what - kill everyone else in the bloodline?”

Nate poked at the wound on his neck a bit and sighed. He wasn't crazy about jumping head first into vampire territory either, but they couldn't just run. “We don't really have much else to go on right now. Besides, Andy is getting these visions from somewhere or some _one_ , and no one is going to say it's from vampires.”

Matt smiled a little. “Then why do you?” Though he knew perfectly well why.

Nate just raised his nose at him. “Because I read a lot.”

It only made Matt's grin widen. “Uh huh, and so you think this is  _ Dracula  _ now,” Matt said, recalling the time that Nate had written a book report that had made John’s toes curl. Mary had hung it on the fridge for weeks. “But vampires these days aren't turning into bats or - or being killed with a wooden stake through their hearts, right?”

Nate stood up then and grabbed at his bag to pull out one of his notebooks, grateful they'd made it out of the motel with at least a few of their belongings intact even if his precious Firebird was currently miles away. As he turned through the pages of one notebook, hand-drawn pictures of various monsters stared up at him among scribbled notes and coffee stains. “Well, what about shapeshifters? Zombies? Those all qualify under what you just said.” He held up his notes for Matt to see while Andy nodded his head.

“If nothing else, maybe taking out the Alpha will stop more hunters from having to die," Andy said with a shiver, because he'd watched too many good people die, had been chased across the city by vampires and hunters alike, and he was ready to do anything to see some good come out of this.

Matt nodded as he looked over the sketches of vampires and the limited notes his kid brother had on them. “Okay." He took a deep breath. "Okay, so say you want to track down the Alpha. Well, start with what you already know: the nest." He shut the notebook and handed it back to Nate. "You said you found it through cross referencing missing people with the members of this... dating app?”

“Point,” Andy said and opened the app, handing it over to Matt.

It began to play dark, sultry music, and a woman’s voice spoke.  _ “Are you haunted by lust? Ravenous for love? Do you desire something to quench that deep, dark thirst inside?” _ Face twisted in confusion, Nate crawled over the bed to see the app for himself as the voice went on,  _ “Then welcome, gentle lover, to Point. Where the only thing hotter than our blood, is our passion.” _

Both brothers simultaneously looked up at Andy who blushed a little and shrugged. “Well, it is a dating app.” They continued to stare at him in disbelief, and Andy shifted nervously. “Come on, guys, it's all I got! Shiv is the one that did all the coding and stuff here, I was just the…”

“The personality?” Nate suggested with a smirk.

“No, that was definitely Miles,” Andy whispered, more to himself than to the brothers.

With a hint of guilt, Nate noticed the way that Andy slumped in on himself, but Matt had begun messing around with the phone before his eyes widened suddenly. “Holy crap.” Matt looked up at Andy and held up the phone. “Have you downloaded anything from this app? Or uploaded anything to it?”

Unsure of what Matt could mean, Andy shook his head slowly. “No, nothing.”

“Really?” Matt asked, looking back at the phone screen. “Because it is majorly sucking up your storage.”

“Dude, a little sensitivity,” Nate hissed, whacking Matt in the arm, and Andy smirked as Matthew ignored him and went back to his laptop. He plugged the phone into it and started pulling up the phone’s storage and data files.

Andy poked over, trying to maneuver so he could see the laptop screen over Matt’s shoulder. “What’s it doing?”

Matt frowned at the screen and clicked through the files. “It's all security, all of it. Not even a quarter of this entire file is the actual app. It's all this encryption eggshell it's surrounded with.”

“Maybe the vampires took home security a little too seriously?” Nate suggested, poking around for more snacks in one of the bags Matt brought.

“Or it’s trying to protect something,” Andy said, straightening behind Matthew.

Nate frowned, unable to find any more food. “In the app?”

“It's worth a look, but I'll have to call in reinforcements. That is,” Matt turned his gaze to glare up at Nate, “assuming she's not too busy running tracking programs on random phone numbers behind my back.”

Andy and Matt both stared at Nate as he smiled innocently and batted his eyelashes. “That's super weird, I don't-” Nate laughed nervously, glancing between them. “Why - why would she be doing that? Of all things? That's... weird.” He coughed and smiled again, drumming his fingers on his knees.

Matt raised an eyebrow, all older-brotherly and Matthew-like. “Uh huh.” He picked up his own phone then and started dialing Steph. “Like I said, we can only hope she's not too busy.”

Andy glanced at Nate again to find his partner still smiling, only now a little less than innocent.

* * *

Beneath a clouded half-moon, Gordon leaned against the light pole shining over the parking lot of the motel and rubbed at his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full night of sleep. What little control he had over the remaining hunters was beginning to crumble beneath the weight of so many casualties, and John Smith's obvious betrayal wasn't helping either. The others trusted John's judgement, and if he thought Gordon was out of control... The door to the room they’d “borrowed” opened and closed behind him, interrupting his thoughts. Gordon turned to see one of the hunters, Ben, step outside.

Wiping blood from his hands onto a wet rag, Ben came to stand beside Gordon beneath the buzzing light. His eyes were distant and dull as he muttered, “Charlie’s dead.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gordon closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“Gordon,” Ben began in a low, gruff voice. He fidgeted with the rag as Gordon turned to look at him. “Charlie was like a brother to me.” This was it, Gordon thought, the moment he lost the last of his control. They'd been so close to finally purging this nest, and now, it would have all been for nothing. But Ben set his jaw and asked instead, “So when do we take the nest?”

Gordon looked back towards the soft glow of the city in the distance.

And his grin widened.

* * *

Outside the boys’ room at the Chips Motel, a pizza delivery car drove up and parked. The kid that got out of the car toted a bag heavy with pizza boxes, checking the room numbers until he reached the right one and knocked on the door. Inside, Matt was on the phone with Stephanie while Andy and Nate played cards on one of the beds.

When he heard the knock on the door, Nate bounced up with renewed vigor, swiped Matt’s wallet from the table, and checked to see who was outside. “Hey! Food’s on!”

Matt watched him, obviously offended at the blatant thievery as he scoffed and waved an arm at his brother's back. He gave Andy a "See what I have to put up with?" look, but Andy just cackled.

When Nate eagerly opened the door, the delivery guy looked down at the bag in his hands. “You order three deep-dish pizzas?”

“That’s us!” Nate said, practically bouncing on his toes.

“ _Three?_ ” Matt called from somewhere behind him.

Nate ignored him as he dug cash out of Matt’s wallet to pay for the pizzas and give a tip, but he froze, looking up suddenly in horror. The delivery guy frowned. “Uh, is there a problem?”

“There’s no…” Nate dropped his voice to a whisper as he pointed at the pizzas, “ _ garlic _ on these, is there?” Behind him, Andy rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.

“I don’t know.” The guy wrinkled up his forehead. “Did you… order garlic?”

Nate thought about it, trying to remember, but he mentally shrugged - at least that didn’t hurt - and took the pizzas, passing the kid the money and a generous tip if only to get on Matt's nerves. Once he shut the door, Nate set the pizzas down on the table and started opening the boxes as Matt was finishing up his phone conversation.

“Yes, thank you, Stephanie!” Matt smiled, because even with Nate being, well, _Nate_ , Matt couldn't help but smile listening to Steph talk. “I will, love you too. Bye.” He hung up the phone as Nate was laying out the pizzas across the table for them to choose from. Matt grinned and picked a green pepper off one of the pizzas before sticking it in his mouth. “The wonderful and talented Stephanie just found the address that the last upgrade to the app was sent from.”

Andy shuffled over to grab some pizza, hoping he could stomach it, and looked up expectantly at Matt. “Like, a physical address?”

Nate sat down with a plate full of pizza and pulled out two plastic packets that he flicked a few times before tearing them open. As he dumped the contents, hot pepper flakes, over his pizza, Matt and Andy watched him with wrinkled-up noses. Noticing their attention, Nate looked up. “What?”

Andy blinked at him, his eyes already starting to water. “Dude, what is that?”

“Pepper flakes,” Nate said, holding up one of the bag and shaking it. He grinned. “Want some?”

Andy recoiled, making a face at the smell of them which was only amplified about a hundred times thanks to his friendly, neighborhood vampire senses. Nate couldn't help but laugh at him while Matt watched them both in quiet amusement. Once they all settled down with their pizza, Matt leaned back against the table, always the one to keep the conversation on-topic, “But yes, it’s a physical address, and you'll never guess where it is.”

Nate looked up from his pizza. “The Buffet at Wynn!”

“No,” Matt said, pointing towards him with a look of amused confusion on his face, “but it’s kinda close.” He set his pizza down and grabbed his red leather jacket from the back of one of the chairs at the table. “How do you boys feel about playing a few slots?”

As he grabbed his plate and made his way towards the door, Matt spun around suddenly as Nate was gathering up the pizza boxes to bring with them. “Oh, Nate? Do not stink up my car. It's new.”

Nate, with a mouthful of pizza, just frowned at Matt and rolled his eyes. Andy giggled and poked at his friend's side before following Matt out the door.

* * *

Vegas was alive as usual, bursting with people and music and distractions. As Gordon elbowed his way through the crowds, what remained of his crew of hunters followed after him, along with John Smith, prodded along by the others and always kept within arm's-reach just in case he tried anything. When they arrived at the front of  _ Satisfaction _ , John grabbed the collar of Gordon’s shirt, hauling him forward. “Gordon, you’ve had some stupid plans before…”

“I’m done playing,” Gordon told him, his eyes empty of all reason. Even John Smith couldn't intimidate him now. “The nest falls tonight, or we do.”

“That’s a distinct comfort.” John pushed Gordon back a step and tried to turn away. Maybe Gordon was willing to die, but John wasn't. The other hunters, however, stood shoulder to shoulder to stop him. John stared them down and set his jaw. “Why don't you let me head off and start making funeral arrangements for every damn fool that followed you here?”

Gordon chuckled as John turned back to him. “So you can run off with your little heretic son, undermining all the hard work brave hunters like us have put into this war? I don't think so.”

“Try to justify this in your messed up head all you want to, Gordon, but this is no war,” John said, pointing towards the nightclub. “It’s a slaughter.”

Cocking his pistol, Gordon almost broke a smile as he nodded for his boys to head towards the nightclub. “I sure hope so.”

They charged inside, and without hesitating, Gordon turned and shot the clerk between the eyes. As they stormed into the main room, hauling John along with them, people screamed and scrambled back, but the hunters cut them down mercilessly. As blood painted walls and faces alike it became harder and harder to tell the hunters from the monsters. Frozen in the doorway, John stood there, without a weapon, without a chance of stopping the bloodbath. He could only stare in horror as bodies fell at the hunters' feet.

Human bodies.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love seeing these Three Amigos in action!
> 
> Heaven knows they aren't the Three Musketeers.

Las Vegas, Nevada  
May, 2011

At the other end of the strip, the colossal Caesars Palace stood proud among the glittering lights. Matt pulled up to the front entrance feeling wildly out of place, and the boys got out as Matt handed over his keys to a valet. Nate stared down the entrance, the crowds of people inside, and all the flashing lights. One look and he was already feeling in over his head. “How the hell are we going to track down the Alpha in a place like this?”

Andy patted Nate’s good shoulder and led them inside. “You won’t. I will.”

As they neared the door, Matt put a hand on Nate’s arm to stop him for a moment. “You realize we can't take any weapons in with us, right? This is a public place. In _Vegas_.” He fixed Nate with a warning look. He was not going to jail - that had definitely been on Stephanie's list of ground rules when he was leaving to find Nate in the first place - but he also wasn't thrilled by the idea of going up against a vampire Alpha without a single weapon on them.

With a wide grin, Nate wiggled his eyebrows and said, “They’ll only take the ones they can find.” Matt wasn't sure whether that made him feel better or worse at that point, but they didn't have time. So, the boys turned and headed in after Andy.

The inside of the Palace was pure chaos, a cacophony of slot machines, clambering crowds of people, and every imaginable blinking light under the sun. It was enough to rattle Andy’s brains beyond coherency, and he clamped his hands tight over his ears and screwed his eyes shut as he felt like someone was twirling his insides like spaghetti around a fork. Nate and Matt rushed to his side as Andy started to crumble in on himself, and Nate took Andy’s elbow before steering him over to the edge of the room where things were a little less chaotic.

“Easy there,” Matt told him and helped Nate sort of shield Andy from the rest of the room as best they could.

“No!” Andy fought back and tried to push between them as the brother’s caught him again. “We have to keep going!” Shaking them off of him, Andy straightened and slowly took his hands away from his ears and took slow, deep breaths as he tried to focus.

With his eyes still closed, the world around him changed. The sounds faded into the background, and the scents of everyone in the room filled Andy’s mind, mapping out the floor surrounding them in criss-crossing trails. Several warnings sparked within the mixture of sensations, and signals of danger flashed in Andy’s head - other fangs.

“We’re not alone.”

Nate glanced around to make sure that no one was watching them, but the longer he was in this place, the more antsy he felt, too. “What, did it really take your Spidey Senses to tell you that?”

“No,” Andy pressed the heels of his hands against his head, “I mean there’s fangs all over this place.”

“Really?” Matt asked, glancing around as if he could somehow spot them, but the crowd in this giant room were already such a strange collection of people that it would be impossible to pick out someone from the mix, especially someone who didn't want to stand out from the crowd. Then he looked back to Andy, the obvious mental and physical distress he was under after only a few short moments in that place, and a thought struck Matt suddenly, “How do they stand it?”

Andy winced again as another slot machine went off nearby in a loud clatter of spewing coins. “Practice, I guess. I don’t know, but they’re not who we’re looking for.” Without warning, his eyes still pressed closed, Andy surged forward and narrowly dodged and ducked his way through the crowd as he went, navigating on the map of scents and body heat alone as Nate and Matt raced after him.

* * *

The main room of Satisfaction was already in a full-blown panic as the hunters swarmed the place, but as Gordon fired his gun into the air and shouted, everyone froze for a moment, looking towards him as he spoke, “Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to disturb your evening like this, but I'm afraid you've found yourself in a den of monsters, and we're your exterminators.” His pupils were wide as saucers, and the grin that split his face was unhinged.

While he maintained their brief attention, Gordon reloaded his pistol, took aim at a random person among the crowd, and fired. In a flash, the room broke into chaos again as people tried to flee only to be cut down by the hunters at every turn. Fangs poured from the back rooms and behind the bar. One tackled a hunter to the ground and sank her teeth into his neck as he screamed, choking on his own blood, and John, still without a weapon, staggered back and raced towards Gordon.

John grabbed him once again by his shirt, trying to shake some sense into him. “Gordon, stop this! Half of these people are innocent! Can't you see they're human?!”

But Gordon was beyond reasoning with, all but an animal himself as he surveyed the carnage around him with a wide smile. “Well then,” he cackled, his eyes finally meeting John's, “tonight just isn’t their lucky night.” He turned back and fired, John watching helplessly as Gordon killed a kid who couldn’t be older than Nate.

As Gordon tore away to help one of the other hunters, John gripped his hands into fists at his sides and started looking for a weapon.

* * *

In another room of the casino, the boys stumbled to a halt as Andy stopped short in front of them, his head whipping around. “What?” Matt asked while looking around for trouble, but again, it was almost impossible to pick out a threat among the madness. Besides, the longer they were in this place, the more panicked Nate was looking as well, and Matt knew the kid could get overstimulated from too many conflicting sights and sounds. So, he figured they didn't have much longer before they were down two out of three.

Andy lowered his voice so that the brothers could barely hear, “We’re being followed.”

Back to back, they looked around, trying to see who Andy was referring to, but there were just too many people in the room. As Nate continued to scan the crowd, Matt patted Andy’s shoulder. “You need to focus on finding the Alpha. We can hold off anyone else.”

“No, you can’t,” Andy muttered as his shoulders raised at the rancid scent of the fangs in the room. “Not these creeps.”

While scanning the room, Nate spotted a pair of police officers keeping watch over the floor, and suddenly he got an idea. Matt noticed the change in his eyes but wasn’t quite quick enough to stop him as Nate whispered, “Keep walking. I’ll catch up,” and slipped away into the crowd.

Andy turned after him, remembering what happened the last time Nate went off by himself, “No - Nate!”

Matt surged forward to follow him, but Nate disappeared among the throngs of people, right in front of Matt’s eyes. “Damnit!” He couldn't leave Andy alone. He might be their resident bloodhound at the moment, but that didn't mean that he could fight off a third grader at that point with the way he had his eyes screwed shut. So, Matt sighed and turned back to Andy. “Alright... let's keep going.”

With a worried, frustrated growl in the back of his throat - if Nate survived this, Andy was going to kill him - Andy started off again with Matt keeping a hand on his arm so that he wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. Meanwhile, Nate headed in the opposite direction, his heart rate ticking further up the scale. But he had his brother and his best friend to protect. He could ignore everything else for that. Bumping into one person among the throng of people near the police officers, Nate slipped his hunting knife from underneath his shirt, spun the person around, and sliced through the strap of a nearby woman’s bulging purse. As the contents poured out over the floor, Nate shoved the two people together with a loud gasp.

“Oh - oh no! Look what you did! What are you, some kind of thief?” Nate shouted and watched as the woman’s friends hurried to her side. Turning, he called towards the two officers. “Hey, hey! Hey, we got a robbery over here! I think he's trying to kill her!”

It was the same as shouting “Fire!” within the crowded building, every eye in the room turning towards the sudden chaos. And hopefully away from Andy and Matt. While the officers tried to break up the brawl that had started among the woman’s friends and the poor unsuspecting man, Nate slipped effortlessly through the crowd to meet up again with the others who he caught sight of on the other side of the floor.

But suddenly someone grasped the back of Nate’s neck and pulled him off-course, the hand curling around his throat to pull him close to someone behind him. “What’s wrong, friend?” they hissed in his ear. “Leaving so soon?”

A familiar fear spiked in his chest as the fingers crushed Nate's throat, and whatever needling feelings of panic had been slowly eating at his brain suddenly roared into a cacophony as every noise in the room funneled down to the sound of his heartbeat hammering in his own ears. Jabbing an elbow for the person's chest, Nate tried to break away, but the grip around his throat was so tight that any movement cut off his air completely. The person, a young man the same height as Nate, pulled him closer. “Oh come now, we were just getting to know each other!”

He dragged Nate towards the bathrooms where they burst inside with a flurry of twisting limbs, and the vampire threw Nate into the handicap stall and locked the door behind them. Nate drew his knife in his left hand and readied himself for a fight with the assumption that this wasn’t going to go well. But turning back to Nate and looking him over, the vampire only licked his lips.

“You know, it's not very often we get hunters around these parts. But what's this,” the vampire’s eyes widened in delight as he caught sight of the healing wound on Nate’s neck. “It looks like someone was having a little fun without me. That's okay. I usually skip the foreplay anyway.”

He lunged at Nate who slashed at him with his iron blade, catching the vampire across the arm, but it wasn’t enough to drive him back. He seized Nate’s arm, slamming Nate into the wall against his bad shoulder, and the hunting knife fell from Nate’s hand as he gritted his teeth so tight his jaw popped. Great - of all the ways he'd wanted to go, drained by a skeevy fang in a bathroom stall certainly wasn't near the top of his list.

Then the door behind them swung open suddenly as Andy flew in, grabbed the fang, and threw him up against the opposite side of the stall, pinning him there by his shoulders. Matt slipped in behind him and drew a penknife from the ankle of his jeans before crouching and slashing both of the vampire’s Achilles tendons. The fang screeched in agony as Andy slammed his head against the toilet bowl, let him drop to the floor, and grabbed Nate instead, hauling him forward so their faces were inches apart.

“Stop wandering off,” Andy hissed and shoved Nate back a step.

Huffing a little, Nate scooped his knife up from the floor and glanced back and forth between the vampire and Matt in shock as his older brother cleaned off the blade of the knife with some toilet paper. Matt just shrugged. “What? Undead or not, they won’t be going anywhere without their Achilles.” Matt nodded towards the door as he passed Nate and Andy, both of whom were decently impressed. “Let’s go.”

Andy patted Nate’s cheek as he followed Matt, and Nate batted his hand away before grinning and falling into step with them. “No weapons in Vegas, huh?”

"You're welcome, by the way," Matt said and opened the door to the bathroom with a sweeping gesture for them to go ahead of him. “Ladies!”

On their way out, Matt spied another person stepping out of one of the other stalls, and the man moved slowly over to the sinks to wash his hands. Matt winced a bit, hurrying the other two out, before smiling and waving to the man. “Uh, we’ll be back for him later.” He let the door swing shut behind him as he bolted after Nate and Andy.

Blinking in confusion, the man peered into the stall with raised eyebrows.

As the boys reconvened back out on the floor, Nate’s distraction slowly dwindled as the officers broke up the fight. Matt slipped his penknife into his pocket while scanning the faces around them. None of them were sprouting fangs, so he figured that was a good sign. “Now where, Andy?”

Closing his eyes again, Andy ducked his head and flinched as he sensed more vampires approaching them. It wasn’t long before Matt and Nate could see them, too.

“No time for subtlety?” Nate asked, looking to his brother for confirmation.

Matt nodded as the vampires spotted them and picked up their pace. “Agreed.”

They both reached out to one of Andy's arms and pulled him after them as they sprinted in the direction that he pointed them in as the fangs closed in from behind.

* * *

John reached another hunter too late, their blood spraying across the floor and his face, and the same vampire that killed them flung herself at Gordon. But John grabbed her in time and yanked her back away from him. Then wiping the blood from his face, he reached a hand down to help Gordon up. Only, in his confusion and blind rage, Gordon swung his machete at John, thinking he was another vampire.

“Whoa - whoa!” Dodging the attack, John staggered back out of the way until Gordon finally saw who he was.

Back on his feet, Gordon looked around at the gore painting the walls and floors of the nightclub, the last of the carnage coming to a gruesome end as another hunter sliced off the head of the vampire that had just attacked Gordon. But still more hunters laid slain, ripped open, their eyes staring blankly. Finally, Gordon sneered at John’s attempts at helping.

“Oh, so you’ve finally chosen a side, have you?”

John made one last plea, in hopes that something of the hunter’s sanity remained, “Gordon, this is madness! Stop this now before everyone in here dies!” There would be more vampires. There always was, but maybe if they fled then, they could escape with their lives before more arrived.

But Gordon wouldn’t hear reason, even now. “You would just love that, wouldn't you!” He raised his machete towards John, and it dripped with human and fang blood alike. “You marry a _freak_ , you give birth to one, and he befriends a monster just like him.” John felt something inside of him snap at the mention of his wife and child in such a foul tone, but he hardly had time to react before Gordon swung at him again, closing the distance between them. John barely dodged as he backed away, tripping over a corpse. Gordon kept advancing on him. “I should have seen this coming from the moment I first heard that Nora had a son!”

Glaring at him, John had heard enough. He reached down to pluck a machete from the hands of a fallen hunter, and swinging up, his and Gordon’s blades clashed. Knocking John's strike aside, Gordon shoved him back a few steps with a kick to the chest.

“What's wrong, traitor?” Gordon hissed as he swung for John’s head again. “You still sensitive about little Miss Freak?” He smiled as John roared - no one, not even Gordon Walker, would talk about his wife that way and live - and struck towards Gordon’s heart. But he nimbly dodged out of the way, vaulting over a blood-drenched couch. “You know, I was willing to overlook you two getting married. I was even willing to overlook her having a son. But this? Now?” Gordon raised his machete once again, ready for whatever John had to throw at him.

“This feels like the only appropriate ending.”

With gritted teeth - he was done talking - John straightened his broad shoulders and flicked the blade of his machete for Gordon to make the first move. Flinging himself at John, Gordon surged forward with all his remaining strength, but John dodged out of the way with a simple parry before swiping at Gordon’s back, all but openly toying with him. As Gordon turned to take another swing, John ducked again and hit Gordon low to knock him off balance.

They went back and forth, slashing and dodging and taunting one another, as the remaining hunters turned to watch them in shock. Suddenly John seized Gordon from behind, pinning him against a wall and twisting his arm behind him to get him to drop his weapon, but Gordon refused to release his grip until John had torn his arm from its socket and shoved Gordon to the ground at his feet. John stepped back.

The small crowd of hunters drew closer, watching. Gordon turned painfully onto his back and glared up at John who pointed his blade down at him. “Go ahead!" Gordon shouted and rolled his eyes around to look at the other hunters, waiting for them to jump in and stop John as they had before. "Do it! Prove that it runs in the family!” But none of the other men made a single move to help their leader.

Grabbing Gordon by the collar, John hauled him up until their faces were inches apart so that John barely had to whisper, his voice strained as he barely contained the urge to take Gordon’s head off. “I am a hunter. My wife was a hunter.” He curled more of Gordon’s shirt around his hand, tightening it around Gordon’s throat. “My _son_ is a hunter. _That_ is what runs in our bloodline. But you?” He shoved Gordon back against the wall and released him. “You're a damn dirty monster.”

John turned away to leave - done with all of this madness - but as he did, Gordon roared and lunged at him again, his machete flashing in the light.

* * *

The vampires chased the trio into another room in the casino, and they momentarily lost them in the crowd, taking just a second to catch their breath. Nate’s face was already covered in sweat and drained of color, the lights and sounds in the room becoming one big blur as if his senses had been shoved into a blender and set to puree, and he started to fall forward before Matt reached out to catch him and steady him. Matt looked to Andy who was also struggling to keep his wits about him, and Matt took his arm. “We can’t just keep running like this all night. We need a plan!”

Desperately Andy searched around for something, anything that might point them in the right direction. Then, spotting something, he pulled the brothers towards it. “This way!”

Nate had to cling tight to the back of Matt’s jacket to stay upright, and they tripped through the crowd until they reached a narrow hallway and followed it to the door leading to a brightly lit maintenance hall. Andy winced against the light as they entered, and Nate reached up to shield Andy’s eyes with his hands, panting dryly.

Matt glanced back the way they’d come, knowing that the fangs would be after them in just a few seconds. They wouldn’t have much time, and Nate was still too weak to keep running around, let alone fight off more monsters. As he watched Andy slowly acclimate to the bright hallway, Matt got an idea.

“Nate!” He reached forward and started digging through Nate’s pockets.

Not understanding and struggling to calm down after the over-stimulation, Nate swatted at him with one hand. “Dude - dude! I already gave you your wallet back!”

“I'm not looking for my wallet! I'm looking for - these!” Victorious, Matt drew out the rest of Nate’s pepper flake packets. He tore them open, and when he did, Andy grimaced and recoiled from them instantly.

“Oh - again with the pepper?” he shouted, covering his nose.

But Matt dumped the contents around the door that they’d just come through. “Hey, if you're reacting like this, it should be strong enough to block a full-grown vampire from our trail, or at least slow them down.”

“Unless they’ve had practice,” Nate muttered quietly, still looking too pale.

Matt watched him for a moment and tried to gauge how much longer Nate would be able to stay on his feet. But his kid brother was strong. And he probably had more spite and determination in his little finger than most people had in their whole body, so when Nate met his eyes, Matt gave him a quick nod. “Then we’d better keep moving.” He glanced down the rest of the maintenance hallway and then back to Andy. “Where was it that we were going again?”

Andy slowly gathered his senses, squinted his eyes a bit, and pointed both ways, “Umm, actually…” before finally settling on a direction and heading that way. With his hunting knife clutched tight in his left hand, Nate walked alongside Andy to keep him on course, and Matt followed a few paces behind them while occasionally glancing back over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed.

It didn't take them long to find a back staircase, and as Matt opened the door, he motioned for the others to head up first. But Nate stopped at the bottom and sighed, glaring up at how far up they had to climb, moaning, “Stairs… why is it always _stairs_?”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a good weekend!

Las Vegas, Nevada   
May, 2011  
Caesars Palace

The staircase eventually opened into a nicer hallway, carpeted and quiet. Glancing around them, paranoid by the sudden stillness, the boys followed the hallway to its end where Andy opened the door and pushed through into the next room. It was shaped like a semi-circle with one wall-sized window at a sharp angle that looked down over one of the casino floors, honey-comb shaped panes of glass glittering in the low light. Suspended above the slanted window, a catwalk led to a large, mahogany desk with several small computer monitors displaying various security feeds from around the casino. It faced away from the entrance, overlooking the floor below.

A young woman sat at the desk - black, alligator skin boots propped up next to one of the monitors, a laptop in her lap, and headphones on over her long dreadlocks. As the boys stepped farther into the room, Andy taking the lead, the woman finally saw their reflections in one of the screens on her desk and turned her chair around to face them as she slid off her headphones.

Andy froze. “Shiv?”

She grimaced a little, shrinking back in mock embarrassment. “Oooh, this is awkward." She shrugged her shoulders a bit and gave a small wave. "Hi! Uh, surprise! Not dead.”

Andy felt like he'd been dropped off the side of a cliff. “What - I saw them drain you dry,” he stammered. He should be relieved. He should be overjoyed. Shiv was there, alive, fine, in fact, but something about the glint in her eyes, where she was sitting, like this was some sort of throne room overlooking a palace - her palace.

“Did you?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, twisting her chair back and forth as she regarded him. "Did you really see anything?”

Andy thought back to that moment in the nightclub, the memories so distorted by fear and remorse. He saw her die. He saw the vampire dipping Shiv behind him, saw what he thought was the vampire feeding, but Andy had only seen her fall, had only seen the blood smeared on her neck that could’ve come from the vampire’s already bloodied hands. But it didn’t make sense.

He took a step back, shaking his head. He was falling, standing there on his feet, falling because Shiv was... She was supposed to be his friend.

Pursing her glossy lips, Shiv twisted one of her dreads between her fingers. “Plus, it's kind of hard to kill something that's already dead,” she hissed through a half-grimace and shrugged her shoulders again, all false sympathy and ease.

“Andy, who is this?” Nate asked and stepped forward to stand beside him, eyeing Shiv carefully.

Andy squared his shoulders, his breathing becoming labored the longer he stared at her, the longer she smirked back at him. “This is - used to be - a teammate of mine, Shiv.” He took a shaking breath as his hands clenched and unclenched over and over. “I thought she was killed in the raid... Apparently I was wrong.”

Shiv waved a hand through the air as she pouted sympathetically. “Don't be so hard on yourself, Andy. I had a lot of people fooled.” She framed her face with her hands and batted her eyelashes up at them. “And they said I could never be an actor on account of my lack of soul and a working heart and all that.”

Matt looked around him, at what was, he could guess, a sort of control center for the whole casino. Then he focused his gaze on Shiv again and pointed towards her. “ _You’re_ the Alpha?”

Sitting back with a satisfied smile, Shiv gasped, “Ooo, Alpha! I like that! So much better than ‘the First’ or ‘Vampire OG.’ Or - here's my personal favorite - ‘Patient Zero.’” She rolled her eyes dramatically and adjusted her stark white blouse. “Like this is some kind of a disease.”

“Is it not?” Matt asked through barely contained disgust.

Shiv gawked up at him, leaning forward in her fancy desk chair. “No! This - it's  _ evolution _ ! This is my family, my nest. You filthy pack animals should understand that at least.” Her eyes wandered over them, standing there like a bunch of guard dogs growling at her. The other two were almost cute the way they looked so defensive of Andy - must be a different breed of dog if they hadn't cut off Andy's head in all that time. "It's family before everything, right?" she teased.

But something in Andy's chest snapped, some last, small bastion of hope that maybe this would all turn out okay. “Shut - shut up! Just shut up!” he screamed, suppressing the way that his whole body shook as he felt what was left of his sanity crumbling to pieces in his hands.

Shiv mouthed the word “Wow” with her eyebrows raised, and she put up her hands defensively. “Someone didn't have his Wheaties this morning.”

“Shiv, I - I mourned for you. I cried for you!” Andy tore at his hair, trying to make it all make sense in his head, but nothing had made sense for such a long time. And he was so, so tired. “How - how could you do this to us? We trusted you!”

Sighing, Shiv set her laptop behind her on the desk, crossed her hands in her lap, and slowly looked up at Andy again. “Oh, dear, sweet, trusting, gullible Andy Stein, do you know how many times I've heard that?” She watched his face break a little despite how very hard he was trying to appear strong.  _ Hunters _ , she thought, mentally rolling her eyes. “Do you, furthermore, know how many times I've cared? Here's a hint: the answers are vastly different.”

Now Nate was pissed. He'd put up with a lot of crap in the last few days. He'd been patient, understanding. He even tried to help Gordon Walker of all people, but this? Nate took another step forward to get the attention off his partner. “I thought you helped lead them right to the nest," Nate spat at her. "Not a very good leader if you did.”

“Oh, like I care what you think of me,” Shiv said with another eye-roll. “Of course I had to lead them to my nest! How else was I going to secure it? You know, I thought that whole ‘entry only by invitation’ thing was secure." She fluttered her hands in front of her. "At least now I know exactly where our holes are.”

"But why?" Andy asked, his voice raw and wounded. He still couldn't understand it, still couldn't justify it all in his mind. She couldn't be this, not after all he'd been through. "Why lead us all there? Just to see us get killed?"

Smirking a little wider, Shiv leaned forward and pointed over her shoulder to the casino floor below them. "You're in Vegas, Andy. What's the number one thing here besides casinos?"

They were all silent as they thought about it.

Nate narrowed his when he realized. "Buffets."

Shiv sat back again, sweeping her hands out wide. "All you can eat, love." She folded her hands in front of her again, one finger pointed towards Nate. "It's called being a good parent, look it up. I know none of you here actually have any experience with that."

Andy felt empty, all scooped out inside, like the only thing left was that reeking rot in his veins. Dryly he asked, "Then why didn't you just kill me? Or Miles?"

"Miles I was going to turn into a spy," Shiv admitted and then made a face of pure disgust, as if she weren't the monster here, "but then Gordon got trigger happy. Of course, I honestly thought he'd be a little more hesitant to kill _you_ since you're his favorite and all." She raised both eyebrows at him.

Andy just sneered as he realized he'd been working alongside two monsters after all. "Yeah, well, that was a sucker bet." It really had all been for nothing.

"Too bad," Shiv gave a fake pout, "but again, I don't really care."

Andy would've jumped over the desk and killed her on the spot himself if it weren't for the fact that Matt and Nate reached out together to hold him back, and even then, they could only just barely overpower his newfound strength. Nate stepped in front of him and tried not to look like he was going to lose his pizza at any moment. "Is there a cure?"

"A cure?" Shiv asked like she was insulted. "For what? Me? Honey, what makes you think-"

"Not for you," Nate spat. "For Andy." He could see just how deep this thing was cutting into Andy, seeing how he'd been lied to, how he'd grieved for this monster. He could see the fight draining out of Andy by the second. But Nate wanted one thing. He could care less about beheading the Alpha. He wanted that cure.

"Oh, that's right!" Shiv clapped her hands together once as she turned back to look at Andy with wide eyes. "You're not fully turned yet, are you?" She held up a hand to him, expression somewhat incredulous. "Gotta say, that's kind of a mood-killer. Either go all or nothing, sweetheart. You are in the gambling capital of the world, after all."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Actually, that's Macua, a little tiny place right outside of - you know what, never mind." He tightened his grip on Andy's arm as he tried once again to shake himself free. "Look, can we get on with this, please? Either you kill us or we kill you and end the bloodline…"

Shiv laughed at him, her shoulders curling forward and shaking as she placed a hand over where her heart would be. "You think it's that easy?" She turned to Nate, her eyes flashing scarlet, power crackling in the air like the promise of lightning. "You: stab yourself in the heart."

Matt and Andy looked at Nate who glanced between the two of them and then at Shiv. "I'm… I'm good, thanks."

"What the…" Shiv's brow wrinkled in confusion as she gripped the arms of her chair and leaned forward, her eyes glowing like embers. "I said, stab yourself!  _ Do it _ !"

Nate looked at the others again and shrugged. "Well, you know what they say about performance issues. One out of five-"

"Shut up!" Shiv snapped and then sat back in her chair with a huff. "Well, this is embarrassing." She glanced around at the others, pouting like a spoiled child. "That usually works, and it's really cool when it does. Actually..." Her eyes flashed again, and when they did, so did Matt's. "Why don't you snap your own neck to prove it?"

Matt, without blinking, suddenly lifted his hands to either side of his head, and Nate reacted instantly. "No!" He grabbed for Matt's arms just in time and wrestled with him to pin them to his sides. He was lucky Matt was so lanky because he fought back with a strength Nate had never seen in him before, but vampire mind powers or not, Nate wasn't going to let Matt hurt himself.

No longer within the hold of either of the brothers, Andy lunged for Shiv, and cackling, she leapt from her chair and sidestepped his attempt at an attack. She snagged the back of his shirt as he stumbled past and threw him over the desk and against the windows where he rolled down to the bottom, fifteen feet below the level of the room.

"Matt - please, don't make me hurt you!" Nate gasped as he struggled to wrestle Matt into a one-armed choke-hold, his other arm still pulsing in pain from the fight in the bathroom.

Shiv crept closer to them, her scarlet eyes wide in delight as she readied another command, "No! You hurt him-"

Nate moved his brother aside and round-house kicked Shiv in the face instead. He'd heard just about enough from her already. Crying out in pain, she tumbled backwards. Matt finally gasped beneath Nate's hold and collapsed against his brother in a gangling dead weight. Nate released him suddenly and gave him a shake for good measure. "You have  _ got _ to stop doing that!"

Matt, tasting damp earth and blood and dust in the back of his throat and feeling as if his brain didn't belong to him, only blinked up at Nate in confusion as Shiv appeared behind him. Matt didn't have time to gasp out a warning to his brother before Shiv grabbed Nate by the collar and lifted him from the ground. In one swift movement, she slammed Nate down onto the desk, monitors scattering and tumbling to the floor. His knife fell from its sheath and clattered out of his reach, over the edge of the catwalk and down to where Andy had dropped out of sight.

Nate saw Matt get to his feet behind the vampire, and Shiv turned just in time to catch Matt's arm as he swiped at her with his pen knife. Raising up with a weary cough, Nate kicked her hard in the back and sent her sprawling against Matt. Hissing through her fangs, she spun back towards Nate, expecting another attack.

But her gasp cut the air when Matt stabbed his knife deep into the side of her neck. Sputtering around the wound, Shiv turned to face him and sighed as she swept her hair back from her face. "And here I thought you were going to be a fun playmate."

Matt wrinkled his nose at her and caught her wrists as she grabbed for him. "You should've bet on the house."

He spun her around as Andy vaulted over the side of the catwalk, appearing behind her with Nate's hunting knife in his hand. He stabbed it deep into the opposite side of her neck, grabbed Matt's knife in his other hand, and twisted. Then with one great heave, Andy lifted her and tossed her over the desk and towards the windows. With a sickening crunch, her body hit the wall of glass, her severed head soon following, and both pieces slid to the bottom, leaving a trail of putrid, black blood.

The trio approached the edge of the platform and peered down over at the body. Matt shrugged. "Huh, guess she did bet on the house."

A moment of silence passed as they caught their breath, and just as everything seemed to settle, a noise like a tornado tearing through metal, like flesh being severed from bone, like the last dying screams after an age-old battle erupted through the air around them. Andy and Nate both clutched desperately at their ears, screaming and collapsing to their knees. Matt spun around to look at them, dropped down in front of Nate, and grabbed the front of his brother's shirt.

"Nate! Andy!" Matt looked between the two of them, their faces twisted in agony. Then he grabbed the back of Nate's neck and squeezed, trying to get his little brother to focus on him. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

"You don't hear that?" Nate screamed over the screeching in his own ears.

Matt shook his head and looked around for an answer, seeing nothing that could explain whatever was happening to them. He stood up and checked the monitors on the desk that were still working and saw that various people across the casino were doubling over in the same seemingly sourceless pain as Nate and Andy. Then, to Matt's horror, those same people started to turn on anyone around them, lashing out and ripping people to pieces in seconds. Whatever was happening, it had turned the vampires rabid.

Realizing what that meant, Matt looked up just in time to see Andy rise to his full height and bear his fangs, snarling and wild. "Oh crap!" Matt fell back against the desk as Andy lunged at him, but he managed to grab Shiv’s abandoned laptop and slam it into the side of Andy's head.

The hunter fell hard against the floor, not moving, and Matt scrambled for the headphones that Shiv had been wearing. He snatched them up and used the cord to tie Andy's hands behind his back. "I'm sorry, Andy, really."

Quickly, Matt shifted his attention back to Nate, half expecting him to go feral as well. But Nate was curled into a fetal position with his hands clutched on either side of his head, whimpering as whatever noise he heard ripped his world to pieces. Matt hauled him up and tried to get a look into his eyes, but Nate had them screwed shut. So Matt rested a hand on the back of Nate's head in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "Nate! Nate, can you hear me? What's happening?"

"I - I don't know!" Nate cried, still blocking his ears with his hands. "It's just - screaming!"

Suddenly Matt looked back in the direction of where Shiv's body fell and then back at Nate. "It's her! It's her mental signal, like you said - her psychic connection to the other fangs in the bloodline! She is like Dracula!"

Nate pressed his hands tighter, starting to curl in on himself again. "No shit, Sherlock!"

"Well, that means she's not dead!" Matt ruffled the back of Nate's hair, trying to keep his little brother with him. "Nate, she's not just any other vampire. She's more powerful! Tell me, how did they kill Dracula?"

But Nate's mind was just a jumble of pain and noise. He shook his head, looking up at Matt and trying to make sense of what he was saying. "Wh-what?"

"Come on, you wrote a book report about it when you were nine and got an A! Even if the teacher did think you cheated because it was too advanced for you. If anyone knows how stop this, it's you, okay?" Matt grabbed the front of Nate's shirt a gentle tug as Andy started to wake up, snarling and struggling against the cord wrapped around his wrists. But another two minutes of this screaming and Nate was going to forget his own name, let alone the stupid book report he wrote in middle school. Matt gave Nate another shake. "Please, Nate, I need you to think! Dracula!"

Still clutching his head, Nate nodded and shut his eyes again as he tried to remember. "Okay, okay… they - they cut his throat…"

"Okay, got that covered!" Matt said as Andy snapped his teeth and glared at them, no remnant of who he once was left in his eyes.

"The - the heart!" Nate gasped, his eyes snapping open again. He blinked at Matt as he tried and failed to get his eyes to focus on his brother's face again. "They stabbed him in the heart!"

Matt started looking around for a weapon, but both his knife and Nate’s had gone over the edge with the body. “With a wooden stake, right?”

Nate pressed the heel of his hand between his eyes. “No, I don’t think so,” he muttered, or he thought he muttered. Suddenly he realized his throat was raw, but he could barely hear himself over the screeching.

“But the lore says it was a wooden stake!” Matt said, blinking in confusion as he continued to look around for something to stab with. “Into his coffin, I thought.”

“Well hell Matt, which version of the story do you want? Why don’t we have some tea, discuss the symbolism and all that fancy nerd stuff?” He gestured around even as he winced and massaged against the growing pain in his skull that threatened to explode his brains through his eye sockets. “We’re only in a building surrounded by fangs, but go on, let’s go through each version of the myth. There's only been a dozen different ones give or take!”

Blinking, Matt nodded to himself. “Fair point.” He lowered Nate down against the carpet on his left side and ruffled his hair, more to reassure himself than Nate since he didn't think his brother was aware of much that was going on. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll try the heart.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Nate hissed, gasping as he rolled onto his back.

After giving Nate a somewhat loving, somewhat annoyed pat on the chest, Matt went back to the desk, sidestepping around Andy as he continued to snap his fangs and fight against the headphones cord - good thing John had taught Matt how to tie knots at least. Climbing up onto the desk, Matt eased himself over the side, dropped down onto the wall of glass below, and slid to the bottom where Shiv’s body had fallen.

He rolled it over onto its back, and suddenly the arms jolted with life, reaching for him and tearing at his shirt. Matt jumped backwards. “Poop on a brisket!” He dodged and kicked the body away from him. Finding Nate’s hunting knife nearby, still slick from tip to handle in black blood. Wrinkling his nose, Matt snatched it up, raised it over his head, and stabbed the flailing body in its heart.

At his feet, the head began to scream out loud, and Matt covered his ears against the horrible noise. Above him, Andy and Nate both screamed and struggled against the pain in their heads, but Andy’s insides glowed and sparked, the same scarlet as Shiv’s eyes had, along with every other vampire across the casino. Everything reached a fever pitch, Andy's back arching in white hot agony, Nate clawing at his ears, and then the screaming stopped, the glowing flickered out, and all the fangs fell silent, lifeless.

The sudden absence of noise was shot through with a residual ringing and the taste of blood. 

Nate pushed himself up, trying to catch his breath as his body slowly realized it wasn't dying, but when he saw Andy go limp, he scrambled over to him to check his pulse. Nothing. “Andy? No, no, no! Damnit, Pony!”

He rushed to untie Andy’s hands and rolled him onto his back, beginning CPR. Matt, still far below with Shiv’s body, heard his brother’s shouting and looked up. “Nate? Nate!”

Nate checked for a pulse again and grit his teeth. This couldn't happen, this couldn't happen. Andy couldn't leave him. "He's not breathing!"

Matt looked around, saw the dangling monitors above his head, and he slipped Nate’s knife into his back pocket before climbing up to the platform. Finally reaching the desk again, he fell over the side of it and stumbled over to them. Nate worked with terrified intensity, eyes wide and hands trembling, counting out every second, his mind reeling - not Andy, not Andy, not Andy. After a moment of watching Nate, Matt pushed his brother aside. “Hold on, hold on!”

He checked for a pulse, more carefully, waiting and waiting until he finally sighed in relief and looked up at Nate. “It’s there. It’s slow, but it’s still there.”

Nate fell back with a deep sigh, a wash of relief like cold water over burns. He felt all twisted up inside, and he could hear his own heart pounding in his ears.

Matt tried to lift Andy, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to do it alone. Draping one of Andy's arms across his shoulders, Matt rambled to hide his own panic shivering deep in his chest, “We still need to find the cure, and we need to get out of here before anyone comes looking.” But Nate was still struggling to piece his brain back together, and he wasn't moving. And they didn't have time. “Nate!" Matt snapped at him, feeling a stab of guilt when Nate jumped. "Come on, help me,” he said a little gentler. "We've gotta go."

Nate nodded and kept nodding as he got to his feet, eyes distant. He and Matt lifted Andy between them and fled the room as quickly as they could manage, while below them Shiv’s body crumbled to dust.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters left! Time for the Deus ex Machina!

Las Vegas, Nevada   
May, 2011

Their room at the Chips motel was silent as the grave. Andy lay on one bed, even paler than before, blue veins showing through the skin beneath his eyes, and still motionless. Nate sat in a chair nearby and watched the shallow rise and fall of his partner’s chest with his elbows propped on his knees. Andy was running out of time.

Matt walked over, squeezed his brother’s shoulder to get his attention, and handed him a cup of coffee. Blinking like he’d forgotten Matt was there, Nate took the cup and sipped from it before returning his gaze to Andy. With a sigh, Matt ruffled the back of Nate’s hair and went back to the table. He stretched out his sore muscles, arms reaching up above his head and bending to either side - already he was beginning to feel sore from the fight.

After a few sips of coffee, Nate finally looked up at him, still a bit dazed. “Oh, thanks.”

Sitting down at his laptop, Matt turned his head towards Nate and raised his eyebrows. “Hm? For what?”

“For coming. For helping.” Nate rolled the paper coffee cup back and forth between his palms and turned his face away. “For… believing in me or whatever.”

A tired smile shone through as Matt glanced back to his laptop screen. “Well, I haven't found this cure of yours yet, but I will.”

Nate smiled down at his coffee. “Bet on it.”

Another silent minute passed between them, and for the first time since he heard about the fang massacre, Nate felt like wasn't in a one-man fight against the world. He watched Andy's breathing with just enough hope left to believe that they might actually be able to get him out of this in one piece. Matt sipped his coffee in thought.

“You know, you were right.”

“I am a lot, actually,” Nate said as he glanced up at his brother again, a gleam returning to his eyes. “You people are always surprised.”

“Sure, but come on man.” Matt laughed and set his coffee aside. He was practically buzzing now, and Nate couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little. “We kind of just killed Dracula!”

Nate snorted. “I highly doubt she was Dracula." He sat back in his chair and eventually shrugged his one shoulder a tiny bit. "But I could be convinced.”

They both chuckled, still drained. Maybe a tad delirious.

Rubbing his forehead, Matt looked back to the computer screen where he’d pulled up yet another website full of old vampire lore. “All I know is she was telepathic somehow, just like you said the Alpha would be. Andy was seeing the messages every time she beamed them out to the other vampires while trying to find the hunters.”

Nate pushed his fingers through his hair and muttered to himself, “Everyone's getting superpowers these days." First Matt with his crazy visions of the rogue religions teacher and then Andy with his super speed and strength and equally strange mind powers. Nate took another sip of his coffee. "Just not me.”

Matt watched Nate for a moment and rubbed at the goosebumps forming up his arms. Reluctantly, he said, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“What?” Nate asked with an obvious edge in his voice.

Glancing away again, Matt winced a bit. He didn’t want to be the one to bring it up, but they couldn’t just ignore what happened. “Well it's no secret that the Alpha couldn't control you like she could me.” He shivered at the thought of how quickly he’d buckled under whatever old magick mojo she had going on, how it was only because whatever it was didn’t work on Nate that Matt was still there at all. “But you're also the one that picked up on her brain-melting mind flare at the end.”

Nate shifted uncomfortably, looking at Andy again.

“I just don’t know  _ why _ ,” Matt said, more than a little desperate to understand. This was his kid brother, and he needed to know what all this meant.

Fluffing his hair angrily, Nate stood and began to pace the room. Of course he couldn’t enjoy being happy and hopeful for more than five seconds. It wasn’t that he blamed Matt. The guy hadn't been able to let a loose end go since they were kids. If anything, Nate figured that he could find a way to pin it all on Afton, as usual. Dead kids, hallucinations, a healthy fear of the dark - all the weird things of his childhood eventually led back to William Afton. Only this was something new, and Nate was too tired to come up with the logical explanation for how Afton had screwed him over yet again just at the moment.

“There is no ‘why.’ It doesn't mean anything.” Nate picked up his coffee again and took a frustrated sip before pointing towards Matt with raised eyebrows. “There's nothing special about my head aside from how many people are in it at any given time.”

Matt just nodded silently, his gaze racing back and forth along the patterned carpet beneath their feet. “What if… you’re _part_ vampire or something?” Nate froze. “But maybe from a different bloodline? Is that possible, for there to be more than one?” Matt snapped his fingers, mind racing. “Your mom, maybe! She was Korean, right? Maybe - maybe there’s a Korean bloodline that you’re descended from.”

“Are you accusing my mom of being a monster?” Nate snapped, and Matt realized he might need to backpedal a bit.

“No, no, no, I’m just -” Matt sighed and gestured wildly with his hands. “There has to be some kind of explanation for what happened, right? I’m just trying to understand, and we have to start somewhere. Why else would you be able to pick up a vampire's radio signal? If we could just understand this, maybe we could...” His voice trailed off as he realized the strain he was putting on Nate, the way his brother’s face had flushed suddenly and his breathing was erratic again. Nate had nearly died, and his partner was lying on the bed next to him only very slightly undead. Now was not the time for this conversation.

Nate swept a hand through the air and shook his head. “No, no, my mom was normal, aside from being a hunter, of course. I’m normal, or at least I’m not some kind of monster. Every ounce of crazy I am is all 100% organic.” He frowned at the thought, shivering, but there was no way his dad would ever- Not a monster. Nora was a hunter. She was good and stubborn and kept John on his toes, that's what his dad had always told him. Surely if there was more, John would want Nate to know that, too. No, Nate was just screwed up - just plain old, end up in a straitjacket someday screwed up. He took another sip of his coffee and gestured up and down at himself. “I'm like... Vegan crazy.”

Matt nodded again, trying not to flinch at how easily his brother called himself 'crazy' and meant it, too. “Alright, but hey, it’s just a theory,” he said with a smile and decided to let it go. Nate had always been different, ever since they were kids, and part of Matt had always wanted to understand it. Nate, on the other hand, was more than happy to ignore it if he could.

Only Matt wasn’t sure how much longer that was going to be possible.

Annoyed with the entire conversation, Nate dropped back into his seat, but then a smirk slowly spread across his face. “Although, all things considered…” He looked up at Matt. “Dracula  _ was _ kinda hot.”

Laughing, Matt rolled his eyes and went back to work searching for a cure, although even his search into the deep web wasn’t exactly forthcoming. It seemed as if, if someone out there did have the cure for vampirism, they wanted to make sure that they were the only one who knew it. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard a knock at the door. Nate moved to answer it, but considering Nate still looked like he might keel over at any moment, Matt held out a hand and got up instead. He checked through the peephole to see who was outside and stiffened visibly. Nate opened his mouth to ask who it was, but by then, Matt had already opened the door.

John blinked at him in surprise, almost smiling. “Well hello, Matthew.”

“John.” Matt felt every hair on his body stand on end.

Behind Matt, Nate jumped up from his chair, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Dad?” He raced to the door where Matt moved aside but never once took his eyes off of John. With his one good arm, Nate hugged his dad tight, and John grunted as he gave him a one-armed hug back.

“Easy there, son, easy. Your old man's not as spry as he used to be.”

Nate pulled back quickly and only then noticed the blood seeping through John’s shirt, the bandages already wrapped there. He felt his stomach sink again. “Your shoulder-”

John covered the wound with his hand before Nate could inspect it too closely. “It's alright, in and out, nothing to worry about." He smirked slightly. "I've cut myself worse shaving.”

Grinning, Nate nodded his head. He knew his dad could take a hit with the best of them, but he was still glad to see he’d made it out with all his limbs more or less intact. John grabbed the back of Nate’s neck and squeezed, smiling a little himself. It made Matt twitch. As John gave one last glance over his shoulder, he stepped inside the room. He gave Matt a once over - the kid looked like he was sucking on a lemon - and then looked over at Andy, or what was left of him.

John cleared his throat and cut his eyes back to Matt again. “You, uh, hunting now?”

“Hardly.” Matt turned away, unable to look at John being so chummy with Nate again after all those years. “Nate needed help, so I came,” he said as he closed his laptop. He wasn’t going to be able to think straight with John in the room, that much he was certain of.

His gaze shifting between the two of them, John speculated, “I guess you two made up.”

Nate twisted at the braided bracelet on his wrist and glanced towards Matt. “Yes, sir.” Matt only nodded.

John cleared his throat again. “Good, good.” He looked back at Nate, searching for any signs of danger. But he seemed mostly the same as he’d left him with maybe a little more color in his cheeks. John cocked his head to the side as he watched his kid make nervous glances towards his brother. “What happened?”

Nate's eyes widened a bit then and snapped back to his dad. “We got the Alpha.”

“The what?” John asked incredulously.

“First of the bloodline,” Matt clarified stiffly, “just like in ‘Dracula.’ Once they were dead, the others followed.”

John nodded a bit towards Nate. “Right, cut off the head of the snake…”

“You got my message!” Nate sounded so eager, Matt thought he was going to explode.

It had always been just that easy for John to have Nate at his beck and call, no matter what he did or failed to do. Nate still idolized his dad, still saw him as a hero. Maybe he always would, but Matt couldn’t stand to watch John let him down again. So, he shoved his laptop into his bag and untangled his charger from among the bundle.

“Too little too late, but yeah,” John muttered and rubbed at the sore muscles in his neck. “Couldn't stop the raid on the nest though, or save anyone in it.”

Nate’s shoulders fell a little bit. So it hadn't mattered, after all, but then something - or rather someone - else came to mind. “What about Gordon?”

Heavy silence followed, and John didn’t answer his question. Instead he went to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, his signal to Nate that it was a topic not up for discussion. “Speaking of, why'd you try to warn him? About going into the nest?”

Before answering, Nate glanced back at Matt. His older brother was obviously uncomfortable, and Nate knew why. He and John had always been at odds since the beginning, but he was still family. He was still Nate's dad, and Nate felt like he was caught between two sides of himself, wanting to please them both. Eventually, Nate shrugged. “Just… trying to be a good person and a good hunter at the same time.”

With his coffee in-hand, John made his way to the empty bed and sat down on the edge of it. If Matt didn’t know better, he’d think that John almost looked proud of his son, but Matt did know better. So instead of praising his kid for almost single-handedly solving the mystery and taking down the nest, John shrugged it off.

“So, ‘Dracula,’ huh? What, did you get it with - garlic?”

Nate lit up again, eager to share the story. “No! No, um…” He looked over at Matt again and felt himself stammer a little when he was met with Matt’s sour expression. “But, uh, Matt did use the power of pizza to throw some fangs off our scent. And he took out a vampire by slicing its Achilles tendons, so he's pretty much the hokage now.”

John nodded, barely understanding an ounce of the stuff Nate was saying, and glanced in Matt’s direction. His step-son was all but fuming, looked like any second he was going to blow his top, and after a moment, Matt snatched up his jacket, slid it on, and headed for the door. “Speaking of pizza, I'm going to go get something to eat that isn't 1200 calories each slice." He half-turned back to them. "You two, um, don't go anywhere without me.”

“We won’t,” Nate promised, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. There was still that promised “conversation” with John hanging over his head, but Nate still had a partner to worry about first. "Bring me back something?"

Matt nodded, though he wasn’t exactly convinced when he eyed John, but he slipped out anyway. The longer he stayed in that room, the more he felt like he couldn't breathe, like there was a fire growing inside his chest that might just burn him alive from the inside out. And he needed some air if he was going to figure out what to do next.

The nearest diner was an old-fashioned, country-style place with a giant statue of a chicken standing out front, handmade from pieces of metal roofing. Matt headed inside and glanced around at the empty tables covered with red and white checkered tablecloths. Only one old man sat in the far corner of the room reading the paper and drinking coffee. It obviously wasn't the hottest spot in town, but it seemed clean enough. And the salad bar to one side gave Matt the hope that he might find something not swimming in grease or gravy. So he walked to the counter where a nice-looking young woman with short black hair stood behind the old cash register.

“What can I get for you?” she asked with a smile.

Matt made an attempt to offer a polite grin back, but mostly he just tried not to look as cranky as he felt. “Hi, I'd like to place a to-go order please.”

“Sure, hun,” the waitress said with a nod. “Just hang tight!” She winked at him and slipped away to the back, Matt assumed to get him a menu, but when she didn’t immediately return, he seated himself at a nearby booth with a sigh.

Everything he touched was slightly sticky in the way that all old diners were. He tried to ignore that, though, and rubbed at his hair instead, agitation making his hands start to shake. The longer the waitress was gone, the more he became acutely aware of how tired he was. To distract himself from his murderous thoughts towards John Smith, he propped his chin in his hand and stared out the window at the birds that hopped around the parking lot fighting over fallen french fries.

He wasn’t exactly prepared to see Nate's father again after all those years, especially not with Nate grovelling for any scrap of his attention. And the way he’d found Nate - sitting outside that gas station bleeding and bruised - it made him even more sick. Matt hadn’t exactly forgotten what this life could do to people, but he had forgotten just how deep his little brother waded into it, and often, especially when someone he cared about was involved. And Andy… He was all but dead, and they were no closer to finding any kind of cure.

Matt didn’t want to think about what would happen if they couldn’t get to one in time. It wouldn’t exactly do wonders for Nate’s already fragile psyche.

Plus, at the end of the day, Andy was Matt's friend too, and he’d hate to see anything happen to the single nicest, most helpful guy he’d ever met.

As he mulled that fun bit of information over in his head, the cute waitress returned with a brown bag full of food and another chipper smile. She sat down across from him in the booth and set the bag between them. Matt frowned at her and then at the bag, dropping his hand to the table.

“I haven’t ordered yet.”

The waitress only smiled. “You didn't have to. One medium-rare burger, double patty, all the fixin's with cheddar cheese instead of American, side of wedges with seasoning salt, large turkey sub with chipotle mayonnaise and bacon, a grilled cheese and tomato soup, slice of dark chocolate pie, apple pie, and peanut butter pie, oh-!” She slipped back to the counter quickly and returned with a large soft drink that she sat on the table beside the bag of food. “And a large Diet Coke, all to go. And no, I didn't forget the napkins.”

She winked.

Unnerved but still too tired to properly react, Matt instead just stared at her, then the bag, then back at her, and he crossed his arms over his chest, pointing towards her. “Nice parlor tricks, really. I suppose this makes us best friends forever now?”

The woman adjusted her purple-framed glasses, her sharp eyes cutting right through him. “Oh no, not by a long shot. I'm afraid I have you at a disadvantage, Matthew.”

Matt's eyelid twitched. “It would seem you do. You should know, but I'm sure you already do, that this kind of thing makes me wildly uncomfortable, and even less trusting. So good day.” Matt grabbed the bag of food and the soft drink - no reason to waste free food, even if the lady who gave it to him was obviously some kind of psycho - and got up from the table, heading towards the door.

Before he could reach the exit, though, she called out, “You're looking for something. There, I said it. Something more than greasy takeout and a fast road to bad cholesterol," biting her lip, she added, "and you’re desperate to find it, hun.”

Matt froze and glanced towards the man at the back, but he hadn’t so much as lowered his paper. Everything was eerily quiet as he turned back to the lady. He couldn't hear the birds outside, the rush of passing cars on the highway. The sun's light falling on his skin was still cold. The woman smiled sweetly. Only Matt didn’t think she meant well.

“Well kid," she said, sweeping some of her hair behind one ear, "this happens to be your lucky day.”

“Why is that?” Matt asked against his better judgement.

She stood, unpinned the employee name tag from her shirt, and tossed it into the booth. “Because you just found the single best person at finding things. So…” She walked over to him, extending a hand with a quirked eyebrow. “Are we in business?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats! You made it! What a wild ride, right? But hey, it's not over yet...

Las Vegas, Nevada  
May, 2011

Matt tossed the small bottle of liquid from hand to hand as John and Nate helped Andy to sit up in bed. Matt didn’t like this, taking some miracle cure from a complete stranger - deus ex machina eat your heart out - especially one who so completely and thoroughly scared Matt to death. It was too easy, which meant that it was probably too good to be true, but she was right. They were desperate, and from the look of Andy, they didn’t exactly have time to question the source of their miracles.

So Matt uncapped the bottle, and as Nate tilted Andy’s head back and opened his mouth, Matt poured the viscous contents down Andy’s throat.

Coughing as he started to come around, Andy rolled to his side and reached out for a hand-hold of anything to steady himself. Nate was there in an instant to grab his outstretched hand, whispering, “Easy, Pony, easy. Just swallow it. It'll help.” He rubbed across Andy's shoulders, willing him to swallow even as he continued to choke.

When he finally got it down, Andy’s eyes snapped open, and he reached for his throat as the liquid burned like acid all the way to his gut where it settled for a moment and then spread. Shoving Nate back and dropping to his knees beside the bed, he gagged as the sensation reached his throat. He couldn't breathe, his voice getting twisted in his throat as he tried to call for help. But the rot in his veins began to simmer and bubble and burn beneath his skin. Andy was dying.

Nate surged forward to help, but John grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him away. When Andy got to his feet, Matt had to scramble backwards as Andy stumbled a few desperate steps before crumbling to the ground in a heap. He was still gasping, clawing at his throat until slowly he seemed to be able to breathe again. He panted, hands curling and uncurling and eyes dripping with tears.

Taking one big breath, Andy screamed. His whole body shook and contorted, and a moment later, he crumpled over again, listing to the side. When it all seemed done, Nate panicked and shoved John's hands away from him to get to Andy. He knelt down beside him, grabbing at Andy's shoulders to roll him onto his side.

“Pony? Andy? Are you okay?”

Andy lay still for a moment, not even breathing. His face was pale white, his lips blue. Matt covered his mouth with one hand and waited as Nate gave Andy's shoulder a desperate shake. Finally, Andy coughed rancid black blood onto the carpet before blinking up at Nate with a shaky, barely-there smile. But it was enough. Really, it was more than enough, and Nate pulled him into a tight hug, laughing a little, head spinning. Finally regaining a little of his sanity, Andy hugged him back and leaned his forehead into Nate’s shoulder gratefully.

They were going to be okay.

Above them, John leaned a bit closer to Matt and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You did good.”

“So did Nate,” Matt snapped back at him, “even with a big, six foot tall disadvantage.”

He yanked his shoulder free from John’s grasp and walked over to the other two where he knelt down to check on Andy properly, his eyes, his vitals. All normal, or as close to normal as Matt would expect under the circumstances. But he was alive, very much alive, and his pulse had returned. Color flushed his cheeks as he took slow, steadying breaths, and Matt squeezed his arm. The two of them shared a short glance over Nate's head. Andy's face was wet with tears, and the grateful look in his eyes nearly bowled Matt over. Right before Andy grinned and pulled Matt into the hug as well even though Matt was a little stiff.

John watched them all closely with his mouth set into a hard line, the boys oblivious to his steely scrutiny until Nate glanced up at him. When he did, John turned his gaze towards the window, and Nate felt his stomach twist uneasily. He owed his dad for this moment - for keeping them alive long enough to find the cure, for defying his loyalty to the other hunters just so Nate could chase down something they weren't even sure existed - but leaving the boys to their happy moment, John stepped away.

Later that day, Matt loaded his bag into the trunk of his silver Prius, grateful to finally be leaving and finally put some distance between himself and his step-dad once again. Then Matt straightened suddenly as he sensed someone was watching him, and he turned to see the young woman again. She waved at him from where she leaned casually against the wall of the motel at the far corner of the parking lot, hands in her pockets.

Matt stiffened. There went the good mood, right out the metaphorical window. He stalked over to her. “What the hell do you want?” he hissed.

“You kiss your wife with that mouth, Matty?” the woman teased, and as Matt glared at her, she lifted her hands. “I jest. It’s all in good fun, though I'd love to meet Stephanie someday.”

He glanced around to make sure they weren’t being watched. The last thing he needed right then was someone, especially Nate or John, asking for answers from Matt’s newfound “friend.” Although, he doubted she’d stick around long enough.

“See, I don't think it's fun.” He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket and considered her, trying once again to figure out what her angle was in all this. But he couldn’t read her at all, and maybe that bothered him most of all. “You keep saying all these things about me - about my _family_ \- that frankly, a complete stranger shouldn't know.”

“But I'm not a complete stranger, Matty, we shook hands,” she gasped, as if hurt by his words. Only her eyes betrayed just how much she was enjoying this.

Matt bristled, and it took every ounce of his self-control to keep his voice at just a harsh whisper. “Yeah, about that - the cure worked. I don't know how, or why, but it did. So now what, you want my first born child or something?” He was joking, of course, but he also half expected her to say yes.

Instead she scoffed and waved a hand through the air as if she would never think of such a thing. Still Matt wasn't so sure even as she said, “Oh please, this isn't a fairy tale, Rapunzel, and I'm not the wicked old witch!” That was yet to be seen. “I helped you because I wanted to. Because we have something similar that we both want.” With that, her eyes flashed up at him with new purpose, something close to anger.

Matt didn’t like where this was going. “I couldn’t begin to imagine what that is.”

“Oh, I think you could, you're a creative guy. Besides, it's kind of obvious.” She watched him glare at her again, those cutting hazel eyes trying to figure her out the same way he might balance a chemical equation, but it only made her smile, a little exasperated. Of the two brothers, she'd thought this one would be the easiest to deal with, but she was quickly realizing she'd been wrong. “What’s it going to take to get you to trust me?”

“A name,” he snapped. “A name would be a fantastic place to start!”

She considered him a moment longer and ultimately figured that it wasn’t such an unreasonable demand. Pushing off the wall, she offered him her hand again. “Pamela Horton. Though, I don't know how many people know me by it.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “But my friends call me Pam, at least they would if I had any friends.”

Rolling his eyes a little, Matt shook her hand. “Matthew Patrick, though I guess you already know that.”

“Oh, I do,” Pam said with a wink. “And you and I, Matthew Patrick, are going to have so much fun together. I can already tell.”

Once Pam left, Matt went back to his car, leaning his forehead onto the roof of it. Behind him, Andy slipped out of the motel room with a bag, breathing a contented sigh. He gazed around at the sunset, the landscape laid out around them, like it was the first time he'd ever seen it. He laughed, framing the view with his hands. “I think that might be the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Matt smiled at him and then watched the sunset himself over his shoulder. As the sun dipped towards the horizon, the whole desert was lit up like gold. It did feel like a storybook ending in a way, the perfect sunset to ride off into on a white horse and all that nonsense, and Andy seemed to be soaking up every last drop.

But Matt couldn’t begrudge him that. He'd earned it a hundred times over.

Matt smiled again instead. “I think you might be right.”

“Andy!”

They both turned as Nate stormed out of the motel room, glaring at his partner, as mad as a hornet. “Did you eat my pie?”

“I…” Andy smiled innocently, though his eyes betrayed he was anything but innocent. “What pie?”

“What pie?!” Nate scoffed and turned in a quick circle, looking up to the heavens for answers to this obvious injustice. “The peanut butter pie, you ninny! Did you eat it?”

Andy barely suppressed a laugh as he pressed one finger over his lips and considered Nate’s ridiculous expression. “Look, I was hungry, okay? You try not eating anything for days! Maybe it got eaten, maybe it didn't!”

Nate pressed both his hands to his head and looked very near to an explosion. “I have! And you know what was always there for me afterwards? Pie! Fresh Peanut Butter Pie! I can't believe this - you save a guy's life and _this_ is how he repays you!”

Scoffing, Andy looked at Matt who only shrugged. “You really shouldn’t have eaten his pie, man. He’s started fist fights over less.”

“Much less!” Nate agreed, pointing at his brother.

“I was hungry! I was eating everything in sight!” Andy shouted defensively, still smiling at his idiot partner, absolutely tickled by how silly and wonderful it was to fight over something that had nothing to do with vampires. “You know - I bet I didn't even eat it! I bet you just lost it!”

“I _lost_ it? In a motel room the size of an elephant's ass, I lost it!” Nate raised his hands towards the sky. “Unbelievable!’

“Yes! And I bet you anything, I'm going to find it,” Andy said with a definitive nod, heading back towards the door.

Nate spun on his heel to catch the door and hold it open as he stamped his foot and watched. “Oh sure, you do that, Mr. Bloodhound! I bet you anything it won't just magically appear in the trash can, already empty by some strange happenstance!”

Matt leaned one hip against his car and smirked at the two of them.

“Hey, Nate! Look what I found in the trashcan!”

“You son of a- come here so I can shove my foot down your throat!”

“Hey, that's exactly where your pie went!”

“Get out of here, you little fiend!” Nate chased Andy out of the room, bonking him over the head with the small, plastic trashcan as Andy continued to laugh and bat at him as he fled. “I don’t want to look at you for at least an hour!” Nate slammed the door after him, just a hint of an annoyed but happy smile on his face as he returned the trashcan to where it had been sitting.

Honestly, he was just glad Andy was alive.

But he was also still a little pissed about the pie.

Then he caught sight of John watching him from where he sat at the end of one of the beds. His things were all packed in the duffel bag at his feet, and he’d even managed a shower with his bad shoulder, his hair still damp at the ends. With his jacket pulled on over his bandages, he looked like nothing was wrong in the world, except for the way he was watching Nate.

“Nathan.”

He froze, feeling all of nine years-old again. “Yeah?” John continued to stare at him a moment in silence, and Nate cleared his throat. “Sir?”

John got up from the bed and went to the door, locking it behind Nate with a click so loud it made Nate's skin jump. Then he came to stand at Nate’s shoulder and rested a hand on it, the muscles there still stiff with pain.

“I think it’s time you and I had that talk.”

Outside, Andy practically skipped over to Matt, who was leaning against his car and typing furiously into his phone, but Andy didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he was in too good of a mood to care. He walked over, drummed on the hood of Matt’s car, and started singing wordlessly to himself, just enjoying the fresh air and the feeling of his heart beating in his chest again.

Matt raised an eyebrow at him. “Hey, hey! Super vampire strength or not, I just got this car, and I don't want any dents on it!”

Andy grinned wider, and Matt had to admit it was contagious. “You just got a new car? I just got a new car too!” He giggled, shaking his head. “Except for the life of me, I can't remember where I parked it!”

Unable to even pretend to be mad at him, Matt just rolled his eyes and unlocked the car for Andy to get in. Drumming his hands a little more lightly on top of the car and tossing his things inside, Andy climbed into the backseat while Matt opened the door to the driver’s side. Behind him, Nate left the motel room, John close at his heels, both of them toting their bags.

Matt turned to Nate and pointed to his duffel as he approached them. “That stuff will fit in the trunk.”

But Nate swallowed a lump in his throat and smiled stiffly. “No, it's okay. Dad's going to take me back to where I left the Firebird and pick it up.”

Matt’s gaze snapped to John who seemed as emotionless as ever, and while Matt wasn’t quite sure what was going on, he knew enough to be sure that he didn’t like it. And he’d put up with too much already in the last twenty-four hours.

“No, he’s not.”

John blinked, his temper immediately flaring. “Excuse me?”

But Matt set his shoulders. He wasn't a kid anymore. “I said you’re not going anywhere with him.”

Nate took a step closer to his brother, heart hammering in his chest so loudly he could barely hear himself speak. “Matt, listen to me-”

“I appreciate that you're back in Nathan's life, Matthew, I do," John said, interrupting his son and stepping closer to Matt. "But I don't think-”

“I don't care what you think or appreciate, John,” Matt snapped and watched John’s shoulders raise like he was ready to fight. But Matt was ready, too. “You're abusive, and I'm not letting you go anywhere with my kid brother, not alone, not with a party of twenty, _not at all_.”

John took another step forward as Matt stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest. He started to raise one hand like he might swing at Matt, but his step-son was not backing down. “Matthew, you have no right-!”

But Nate stepped between them quickly, protectively. “Matt, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

For a moment, Matt thought he'd heard him wrong. Nate couldn't possibly be defending his dad, not after everything. “What, you don’t see it?”

“See _what_?” Nate demanded, his voice already shaking a little. “He’s my dad! I haven’t seen him for almost six years now, and last I checked, I’m an adult who can make my own decisions without the help of someone who three months ago couldn’t care less if I lived or died!” When Matt reached for him to calm him down, Nate shoved Matt back a step. John Smith's loyal little attack dog.

Matt shook his head. “Nate…”

“No! Bite me!” Nate snapped again, his face red. He seemed to finally have Matt’s full attention. “I know we’re not your idea of a picture perfect family, okay? I get that. We’re hunters, and that disgusts you. It always has!” Nate dropped his voice from a fevered shout to a tired, desperate whisper. His eyes creased at the corners, searching Matt's face before dropping to the ground. “But he’s my dad. He’s all the family I have left.”

Matt felt the words like a slap across his face, and he stepped towards Nate again, crowding his brother's field of vision even as he tried to look away. “Oh, I’m sure Stephanie would love to hear you say that! She knew you all of two hours, and she was going to let you stay in our house alone with her!" Matthew's voice cracked, and he grabbed the front of Nate's shirt, shaking him. "She trusts you! She cares about you!” He spread his arms to either side. “And what about me? Don’t we mean anything to you?”

Andy slowly got out of the car, and Nate turned his head away as Andy looked at him, asking slowly, softly, “Nate? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Nate hissed and refused to look at his partner. “Everything is fine, if Matt would just-”

“Everything is _not_ fine!” Matt insisted, eyes wide and hands shaking. He was not going to let this happen, not for anything. He reached for Nate, but his little brother flinched back from him. Matt grit his teeth, trying to keep himself under control. “You have people that care about you, that would do anything for you,” he pointed at John again, “and then _this guy_ waltzes back into your life, snaps his fingers, and you’re just going to leave with him?”

Unable to meet his brother's gaze, Nate was shaking, too, his whole body trembling, and he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not walking out on anyone. Jeez, I’m just - I’m just going to go pick up my car! You're acting like I'm throwing everyone to the fire! You just can't let me have both, can you?” He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek until his teeth broke skin. “It has to be you or him, it always has.”

Matt’s heart dropped and anger turned to pure panic. He looked to John who seemed calm again, satisfied, like he’d already won, but Matt couldn’t let his brother leave with this guy. Not again. “Nate - that's not what's going on here.”

“Matt, I don’t care what’s going on here.” Nate set his shoulders and finally looked up at his brother again, his eyes as devoid of emotion as Matt had ever seen them, like he’d totally shut himself off. And he looked more like his father than he ever had. “You might not think so, but I can make decisions for myself. And right now I’m deciding to go on a drive with my dad. Take it personally, if you want, you always do.”

He shoved Matt aside and stalked to John’s truck then, tossing his things into the back as John came alongside him and squeezed Nate’s shoulder. Andy took a few steps to stop him. “Nate, don’t do this. Whatever you think you owe him, you're the one who saved me. Not him.”

But Nate shook his head, not even looking up at him. “Get back in the car, Stein. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Andy froze next to Matt. He'd thought Shiv's betrayal had stung, or Gordon's. But this... They couldn’t really just let this happen. But they could only watch as Nate went around to the passenger’s side of John's truck and opened the door. “Be careful,” Matt called to him, wishing Nate would just look at him, just for a second. “Call me when you get back to your car, okay?”

Nate didn’t answer or even look back as he climbed into the truck and slammed the door behind him. John followed, and together, they drove away. Frozen in shock, it wasn’t until the truck was out of sight that Matt felt the tears rolling down his cheeks and dropping off his chin.

Andy looked to Matt, eyes wide and crushed like glass. “What - what just happened?”

But Matthew just shook his head. He honestly didn’t know.

In the truck, speeding down the highway, Nate glared out the window at the passing landscape as silent tears streaked down his cheeks. He could hardly breathe his jaw was clenched so tight, his chest all twisted up.

John glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “You think he believed you?”

But Nate couldn’t tear his gaze away from the window. A passing sign designated that they were heading north. Finally, he managed a choked but firm, “Yes, sir.”

And John looked at him a moment, nodded, and turned his attention back to the road, satisfied.

Nate kept twisting at his bracelet.

* * *

At the Patrick’s meager apartment, Stephanie waited up until headlights rolled through the window and interrupted her reading. She was already standing, waiting at the door when Matt opened it and fell into her arms. He slipped down to his knees, his forehead leaned against her stomach, his face hidden.

Steph cradled his head as she tried to look him over for injuries. “Matthew?”

“He left with John. I tried to stop him, but...” Matt sobbed as he hugged Stephanie tight and released all the emotions he’d kept pent up in his chest since he’d watched Nate ride away, dropped Andy off at his parents’ home, and ridden the last miles back in total silence. Now, he couldn’t stop it even if he tried.

Nate had never called.

“I think I - I messed everything up again,” Matt stammered, barely able to catch his breath as Steph traced her fingers through his hair.

“It’s going to be okay.” She leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll find him again.” But nothing she could say would ease the fear in his gut. It wouldn't be as easy as that, not if John wanted to stay hidden.

So even once Stephanie had sweet-talked him into a taking a shower and eating something before bed, he’d excused himself to step out onto the balcony and let Steph go to bed. His hands shaking, Matt dialed the one person in the world he knew would understand: Mary Patrick.

The phone rang for a minute before she picked up, her voice a little groggy but no less sweet, _“Hey, Matty. How are you doing, honey?”_

What a question. He hadn’t called much since he’d found Afton. There were some things he couldn’t hide, like the house burning, but he’d done his best not to tell her the finer details. But now, with Nate gone and everything upside down, Matt couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He told her everything.

From start to finish, the whole ugly story, at least as much as he understood it, and she listened, only interrupting to calmly ask questions about what Matt forgot to mention. By the time he reached the end, she’d grown very, very silent.

Then, in a whisper, _“I should’ve found him. I should’ve found him six years ago, but I… After what happened. I'm so sorry, Matt.”_

“It’s not your fault, Mom,” Matt leaned over the railing and rubbed his forehead. He felt like he was going to be sick at the memories. “We both messed up.”

 _“Yes, but I’m your…”_ There were tears in her voice, but she took a deep breath. And when she spoke again, it was clear and calm and determined. _“How can I help?”_

Matt bit down on the end of his thumb and thought about it. His mother had resources that he didn’t. Maybe she couldn’t find John Smith, but there was someone else who had recently piqued Matt’s interest that she might be able to dig up some information on.

“I need you to look someone up for me."

_“Of course, Matty. Who?”_

“Her name is Pamela Horton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANNOUNCEMENT: Reverse and myself will be hosting another AMA/talking points on our DMC Discord server! This time with voice chat! You can [hop on in](https://discord.gg/xHVCpMt) and join us, and be sure to start leaving your questions/comments over on [the Tumblr](devil-may-care-series.tumblr.com). We'll be collecting them all week and answering everything that we can (without too many spoilers)! A transcript will also be written out and posted for everyone who can't attend, but we're expecting it to be a lot of fun.
> 
> See y'all there!


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